


are you blushing or is that sunburn

by shibyn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Amusement Parks, Beaches, Dogs, Fluff, Gen, Hot Weather, M/M, Magical Realism, Rated T for profanity, Sappy, Shenanigans, Slow Burn, kinda ridiculous if we being real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shibyn/pseuds/shibyn
Summary: "Wuh?" Bokuto only looks slightly perplexed, munching down on his popsicle in thought. "If we can't do it this week, we can just do it next, right?" He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the whole universe, the only possible answer. A bead of melted popsicle runs down the wooden stick, spilling across Bokuto's fingers. He awkwardly gurgles, unmelted ice still in his mouth, and he tries his best to lick the trail and proceeds to knock himself in the forehead with the ice pop.It's. Endearing, maybe, if not completely embarrassing to watch.Ahh,Kuroo thinks and averts his eyes. His neck is warm under the sun.It's the hottest day of the year.And so was the day before, and the day before that.(A summer romance where things get a little too hot and spicy— literally. Tokyo's melting.)
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 24
Kudos: 105





	are you blushing or is that sunburn

**Author's Note:**

> stupid bastard is my name and magic realism is my game
> 
> where Kuroo and Bokuto accidentally go on a couple o dates (bro dates? broutings (bro outings!)) and Kuroo has a whole ass crisis while Tokyo melts.
> 
> all things considered I live in an area where it always gets hot as balls outside so I'm not exactly sure what the protocol is for places where that is abnormal and folks aren't sure what they need to do, and google is fruitful but not to the extent I need... I apologize for any misaccuracy!!
> 
> thank you!! please enjoy!!

"—temperatures are soaring, paired up with cloudless skies. Take care these next couple of days, and stay hydrated! A cold front is on the way, so sweat it out, there's relief coming soon!—"  
  
Blearily, Kuroo wipes the sweat collecting beneath his eyes, glancing away from the TV that's been playing as white noise as he waits. It's early morning, windows wide open to the city waking. Outside the air is muggy and hot and he would love nothing more than to close the windows and crank up the air conditioning, but he's gotta be mindful of the AC or the bill will skyrocket.   
  
_First day of summer break and it's already abysmally hot,_ he laments, sinking further into the couch. The pleather of the couch is grossly sticky whenever it peels from his bare shoulders.   
  
It's gonna be one helluva long day.  
  
_"Tetsurou!!"_  
  
The front door swings open without warning, slamming against the wall and bouncing back, striking the intruder. Not even deterred aside from a sharp _yowch,_ and only momentarily pausing to kick off his shoes, Bokuto comes romping in through the entryway. Every bit of his stride looks like he can just barely contain the energy he has. He almost strides right past the living room, double taking when he notices Kuroo. "Wha— Tetsu, are you not ready!" _  
_  
Rising from his sprawl on the couch, Kuroo says, "I am ready, you airhead, you just took your time getting here. It's, what—" a quick glance to the clock— "—ten thirty? You're late, buddy."  
  
"By just _fifteen_ minutes!" Bokuto whines, shoulders slumping, "I forgot the tickets the first time I left my house so I had to run back to get them!!"  
  
"You—" but of course. What else was he expecting? He _did_ make their meet time thirty minutes earlier than necessary— just in case Bokuto forgot something. And another thing. And then something else. "How far out were you when you turned around?"  
  
"Halfway through the station!" he announces, bouncing on his toes, awfully chipper for how sweaty he is, "I think that was the fastest I've ever sprinted home." He's got his puppy-dog grin, but he _is_ breathing a little heavier, his shirt damp in dots along his chest.   
  
"You didn't have to," Kuroo says, grimacing. Maybe he should've said that they had plenty of time— even if they ended up being late, so what? He literally incorporated the wiggle room for a reason. Coulda saved him the trouble. "I coulda paid for us up front."  
  
Aghast, Bokuto digs at his pocket and nearly punches Kuroo in the nose he presents his hand so fast. Clutched in his hand are two brightly colored tickets, a holographic sheen to them with the shifting light. The smallest sliver of a tanuki's face peeks out from where it's covered by his thumb. "Never! I've been holding onto these babies for so long, it'd be horrible if I let them go to waste!!"  
  
Kuroo snorts, smacking his hand away. "For _months,_ man. You won them at a raffle at what? The club fair this year? They're about to expire."  
  
"Well!" Bokuto retracts his hand, haphazardly shoving the tickets into his pocket. Kuroo tries very hard not the wince when he sees them fold wrong when they go in. "I wanted to wait for the perfect time! All the rides are open now, and it's summer break! Ideal time!"  
  
"It's gonna be packed as hell."  
  
"Yeah? It's all the more people to see how terrified you'll be on the _Exterminator."_ Bokuto grins. There's a challenge in his voice. Of course. Wouldn't be Bokuto if there wasn't a challenge.  
  
Kuroo scoffs. Wouldn't be him if he didn't step up to the challenge. Or at least egg him on. "You _wish._ _You'll_ be the one holding on to _me_ , scared outta your mind."  
  
"Whoever closes their eyes first on a ride loses!" In either to set the deal or to pull him to his feet, Bokuto extends his hand to him. Clicking off the weather channel, Kuroo, knowing his grin is taking up most of his face, takes Bokuto's hand and pulls himself to his feet. His palms are sweaty but his grip is still firm, stabilizing.  
  
"Lets get going, then."  
  
  
—  
  
  
Both of them lose.  
  
Neither of them really knows who lost _first_ , per se. The Exterminator, the tallest ride that the park has to offer, towers near the entrance which, of course, they beelined to once they stepped in. On the first unsuspected drop, they had grabbed ahold of each other, screaming, eyes screwed shut. Their eyes stayed shut the remainder of the ride, the force of the wind too strong for them to even pry them. The ride was long over by the time they even thought about it.  
  
(Though— Now that Kuroo thinks about it, they never really agreed to what would happen if they lost.)  
  
Since they've both technically failed already, they do not hold back.   
  
On the ride that shoots the cart backwards, they're holding onto each other for dear life, hollering. On the tower drop they're grasping each others arms, screeching and laughing, dropping, then again and again. Every time they get off a ride Kuroo's bangs have been blasted back from his forehead and Bokuto's hair is slowly and eventually coming loose of its gel. Its almost ritual now to laugh about it unnecessarily hard for five minutes, pointing at Kuroo's cowlicks and Bokuto's willowy hair.  
  
Everyone else in the park probably hates them, but who gives a shit, they're having the time of their lives.  
  
Though it takes more than half the day, they dwindle through the lengthy list of rollercoasters at the park: Mt. Everest, American Eagle, Storm Runner, Steel Dragon, Fury, the Manta Ray... They even go through the crummy water-log-ride that's more of a musical show than a ride, lined with animatronic tanukis and flowers and rainbows and shit.   
  
It's the best ride _yet_. Even though they don't know the words, they sing along the whole time.  
  
The day's mostly gone by the time they slump down on a bench, one that happens to have the tracks of a ride twisting overhead, rumbling with the oncoming cart of screeching passengers. Kuroo's slouched across the entire length of the bench, back against Bokuto's shoulder, absently sipping at the icee in his hand that'll probably dissolve his teeth in due time. Bokuto, on the other hand, is scratching off furiously on a flimsy map splayed across his knees.  
  
"I think that's all of them!" Bokuto beams, chewing on his straw. He draws two thick lines in a green sharpie marker over Tanuki Timbers Forge Ride, gleefully humming its little jingle. Kuroo turns his head to peer at the map. There's something very satisfying about seeing every ride crossed out, conquered by the two of them— there quite literally isn't a place on the map they haven't crossed out. "Well, except there's still the restaurants we could go to," Bokuto continues, pointing with the capped end of the sharpie to _Tanuki Tavern_ , a medieval-themed food stop, and _Derby Hall,_ where there's apparently incredible chicken wings.   
  
"I mean, the only thing that's worth getting is this hell drink," Kuroo says, lifting his icee as indication. Truly, there isn't _really_ anything special about the icee— aside from being so obscenely sugar boosted, its gotta be against FDA— but the cup that it comes in is a tanuki head. He's getting sick of tanukis at this point having seen them all damn day, but it's pretty funny since he got the cherry icee flavor and it looks like he's slurping up tanuki brains.  
  
(It's honestly lost all humor value now that he literally feels his teeth fading away in his gums. A funny cup in exchange for his teeth...)  
  
Bokuto shrugs, folding up the map. His icee is practically gone already even though Kuroo didn't see him drink from it. What the fuck. His hands are too steady, too. Did he actually drink it...? "I don't think either my wallet or yours would appreciate it if we went anywhere else, anyways!"  
  
"Then all we would have left is the gift shop. _Buuut..."_ Clicking his tongue in mock annoyance, Kuroo pulls the bill of Bokuto's new hat down until it covers his eyes. Bokuto squawks, swinging at him. "We've already _been_ in the gift shop since somebody _haaad_ to cover up his hair..."  
  
"I couldn't just let the world see my hair when it's down! They're not ready for that," he whines, pulling the bill up. Wisps of his hair peak out from the back. Kuroo successfully suppresses the need to tuck them underneath the hat.  
  
_I wasn't ready, either,_ Kuroo thinks airily, then feels very stupid. The cheeky little winking tanuki embroidered on the hat seems to be smirking at him. Fucker.  
  
"The gift shop's the _last_ place you're meant to go at a theme park," Kuroo continues, pointedly looking away from that stupid tanuki. "But since we've already been, we can just go and leave."   
  
"Wait!" Perking up, Bokuto pops the lid off his icee and downs the rest in one go. Kuroo feels his insides shrivel just from watching. Bokuto drags a hand across his mouth, grinning, "There's actually one more thing! We passed it on the way to the Exterminator so we didn't get to appreciate it in its full glory! It's right by the entrance, too, so it's perfect! C'mon!"  
  
  
  
And then they finally reach it— the Holy Grail.  
  
Unreasonably tall, stationed in its own little pond, ridiculously cheesy; the statue of the park's mascot. Tammy Tanuki.  
  
It's meant to be grand, he's sure, but— but he just can't take it seriously now that he's not ten years old. A big ole bobble-headed cartoon tanuki in some mock power-ranger outfit, waving like its calling kids into the park, a cheeky _'follow me!'._ The jets of water arcing around the metal structure have apparently been misaligned over the years, because now a stream hits the Tanuki straight into its open waving palm.  
  
There's silence for a note as the two of them revere before it. Kuroo waits expectantly.  
  
"I'm gonna get a coin on its head," Bokuto says abruptly, a fire igniting in his eyes. Christ, he's got his _volleyball_ face on. "I'm gonna get it on its _nose,"_ he changes, striding to the railing with way too much determination, leaving Kuroo to try not to fall over wheezing.  
  
It takes a whole moment for him to gather himself to be able to trail after Bokuto. To rest his elbows on the rails He has to nearly bend in half, but he does so anyway, eyes creased in residual laughter, watching Bokuto dig in his pockets for coins. "Why the nose? You're gonna waste _all_ of your money trying to make it," he says, because while he fuckin' _loves_ the enthusiasm, he's gotta make sure Bokuto doesn't end up completely broke.  
  
"It's _special!"_ Bokuto says, scandalized. He digs in every single one of his pockets, back, front, shirt, jacket. Pats himself loudly on the ass, as if that'll help him find coins. "Everyone just tosses it into the water! Wouldn't it, like, up how many years of luck I get if I get it in a cool place?"  
  
Kuroo snorts. "Or it might make Tammy Tanuki extra pissed at you. Isn't it throwing the coin _into the water_ what makes your wish come true, or whatever it is? Landing it in some sick place on Tammy wouldn't count."  
  
"It would so count! Tammy would appreciate my skills." With a bright _'aha!',_ Bokuto pulls coins from the funky little coin pocket in the front of his pants. He unfurls his palm, and in it are nine measly coins. On closer inspection, Kuroo chokes on his laughter.  
  
They're not even yen. They're arcade coins.  
  
Bokuto looks a little heart broken, lips wobbly. "I was gonna use these the next time I went..." he mourns.  
  
"How _long_ have they been in that pocket?" Kuroo asks, his voice hitching too high. Flushing in something close to embarrassment, Bokuto quickly counts and recounts.  
  
"That doesn't matter! What _matters_ is that I'm gonna fuckin' land these trick shots!" He holds them out to Kuroo, who easily lends his palm for the coins to be dumped onto. He tosses one of the coins into the air a couple of times like he's getting a feel for the weight. Kuroo rests his chin in the palm of his unoccupied hand.  
  
"Ya sure you even want to do this, Bo? What if Tammy thinks you're disrespecting 'em by throwing some crummy aluminum coin at it? Not even in the water, too," he says languidly. Now that there's no _real_ threat of Bokuto going to go broke money wise, there's no real need to dissuade him. But it's fun to do so anyways. 

"Tammy _loves_ me!" Bokuto hollers. He winds his arm back like he's a baseball player about to throw the ball of the century, and he just. Chucks the coin. Both of them watch as it streaks across the air, pings hollowly against the tanuki's forehead, and plops straight into the water below.  
  
A long moment of stunned silence settles. Kuroo whistles. "I'm surprised you even hit it."  
  
Bokuto gasps. "No faith! You have _no faith in me!"_ He scoops another coin from Kuroo's palm, nearly sending all of them clattering to the pavement.  
  
"I have faith in the fact you're not gonna have any money after this."  
  
Instead of retorting loudly like he usually would, Bokuto grumbles something suspiciously sounding like _'thats not true',_ which sends Kuroo into a peel of obnoxious laughter. He chucks the coin again in a fit. It flies right over the entire statue, and Kuroo has to hold himself upright with the rails to keep from collapsing.  
  
Like the seconds passing, the amount of coins in Kuroo's hand dwindles. Within the span of six coins, Bokuto's changed tactics, now tossing rather than throwing, and he's gotten closer and closer to the tanuki's head, more-less its nose. When the eighth coin hits Tammy's eye and slides sadly into the pond, Kuroo hands Bokuto the final coin as a passing of rite.   
  
"Final one, Bo, make it count," Kuroo grins cheekily, raising a fist in a cheer.  
  
"It _always_ counts!" Bokuto says, pinching it from Kuroo's fingers. Clutching the coin in his palm like he's channeling all of his energy into it, Bokuto pops his eyes open— _when'd he even close them,_ Kuroo wonders absently— and, with his new strategy of throwing underhand, swings his arm back, and tosses.  
  
Maybe because it's the last one, but it seems so much more dramatic, the coin glimmering in the sunlight. There's no spin to it from what Kuroo can see in that split second, Bokuto's gotten crazy good at tossing in such a small amount of time— and for a brief second, he thinks _this is the one._ It lands solidly on the tanuki's head, the metal resounding like a gong, and it slides straight down the middle of its forehead. His breath catches and Bokuto goes ramrod straight, lurching forward and grasping the rails as if he's going to leap over them, and they both watch as it slides, slides, and reaches the nose—  
  
—and teeters right off, flipping as it drops to the water.  
  
Bokuto screams. Kuroo folds over in laughter. A mother hurries her child past them, pointedly not looking at them.  
  
"What the fuck! It was _there!!"_ Bokuto screeches, leaning almost completely over the rail like he's yelling at the statue. Kuroo has to grab the back of his shirt before he joins the coins in the pond. "I was _so close!!_ This isn't fair!"  
  
It takes a hot second for Kuroo to manage a breath to speak. "It technically counts," he placates, laughter still trickling in his voice, "It _did_ get to the nose."  
  
"But it fell off! It doesn't count like that..." he whines, finally wilting from all of his yelling. He slouches against the rails. "I was _so close..."_  
  
A pause, then Kuroo finds golden eyes peering up at him. "Unless..."  
  
"Nope." Kuroo makes an X with his arms. "Not a chance. I'm not letting you make me go broke too."  
  
"But—! I was so close that time!! I could definitely do it if I had another chance! And with actual money—!"  
  
_"Nuh-uh._ This is how people develop gambling addictions, Bo."  
  
"Gambling's the only addiction that pays back!"  
  
"And _that_ is where we end this conversation," Kuroo says loudly, ignoring Bokuto's indignant squawk. If he were here, Akaashi would obliterate Bokuto for such a statement in his quiet, judging kind of way. He _actually_ shivers, fearful. He stoops to scoop up his icee that he'd set down, pointedly about to leave, but Bokuto clings to his arm, all hundred-eighty-centimeters of him weighing him in place.  
  
"One more! Just one more! And I promise that I'll stop! Even if it doesn't get in! I'll even pay you back!" Bokuto pleads, literally throwing all his cards on to the table. From the look that's in his eyes, he's going promise his first born at this rate.  
  
And— well. He can never say no to Bokuto. Kuroo sighs loud and deliberate. Bokuto perks up. Like a dog perking its ears. God _dammit._ "Just one?" He asks, unrelenting.  
  
"Just this one," Bokuto reassures, unbelievably starry-eyed. Dude looks like he could catch the sun he's so determined. Even though Kuroo knows he'll keep his word, he keeps his eyebrows raised in challenge. Bokuto stubbornly does not crumble under the scrutiny. Then he sighs again, reaching for his pocket.  
  
"Lemme check if I actually have one—"  
  
_"TETSUROU,"_ Bokuto wails, louder than _loud,_ christ, if people weren't looking at them suspiciously before, they sure as hell are _now._  
  
If his face turns bright pink, he blames it on the stupid sun with its stupid UV rays. He doesn't quite fumble with the coin as he pulls it from his pocket, but there's a weird jerk in his motions, embarrassingly. It's a five-hundred yen. Yowch.  
  
"If you miss, you gotta buy me that shitty ice cream that's the shape of Tammy's head," he barters.  
  
"I was gonna do that anyways!" Bokuto cheers and snatches the coin, outshining the sun behind him.   
  
  
—  
  
  
"... Impressive," Akaashi says, eyebrows raising as excited hollering nearly blows out the phone's speaker. The screams last seconds too long, and he lowers the phone once he's realized the rest of the video's nothing but screaming. He slides the phone back to Kuroo. "I'm surprised he even made it."  
  
"Both of you have no faith in me!" Throwing his hands up, Bokuto slouches in the booth as far as humanly possible. "Of course I could get it! I'm _that_ skilled."  
  
"You missed the first nine times," Kuroo reminds, taking a long sip of his smoothie.   
  
Bokuto stills. "Well, _yeah,_ I was figuring it out! Warming up!" He flounders.  
  
"If Kuro didn't give you his money, you wouldn't've made it," Kenma says around his straw and Bokuto deflates even more until he's practically a popped balloon on top of the table. Not even glancing once at him, Akaashi scoots his plate of food away from Bokuto's slump, out of collateral damage, in an almost practiced manner. Kuroo leans back till his head touches the booth, laughing.  
  
The four of them are tucked at a table next to a window, which is luckily situated in the path of the air conditioner. Bokuto had rallied them all here despite the crummy heat, claiming that they _had_ to meet up, he's got a _plan._ Kuroo's only slightly worried of what that plan might be, since the last _'plan'_ involved raiding Karasuno's gym during practice.  
  
(It was a general consensus that one was shot down before it took flight. He doesn't even want to think of the wrath Sawamura would deal upon them.)  
  
Kuroo glances at Akaashi, measuring his expression: there's no tell-tale furrow to his brow, no slight scowl... He's just steadily picking away at his fries, nodding as Bokuto laments. Okay. That's good. Knowing Bokuto, he's probably spilt his plan to Akaashi before hand, so seeing that Akaashi specifically does not look conflicted means it's not too wild of a plan.  
  
That, or he simply hasn't said anything to Akaashi yet.   
  
Yipes.  
  
"Sooo," Bokuto begins, grinning. He even does a drum roll on the table, to which Kenma straight up glares at and Akaashi looks like he does not associate with anyone at the table. "Let's go to the beach!"  
  
"The... beach," Kenma repeats, deadpan. Kuroo chokes on his sip and spends the next minute trying not to die. None of them even try to thump him on the back, more-less glance at him to make sure he's not dying. Bastards.   
  
"The beach!" Bokuto repeats, leaning in, his chest nearly flat against the table. His eyes glimmer with a near tangible excitement. "Let's find a couple of days where we can go! Or it can even be just a day trip where'd we leave in the morning and spend the whole day there! I already looked, and the train ride wouldn't be too horrible, and I know where some public beaches are!"  
  
Kuroo raises his eyebrows, surprised. "You've really done your research this time, huh, Bo."  
  
"You betcha! There's no better time then now! And— We gotta play beach volleyball! If it's us four, I'm pretty sure that's more than enough to play!"  
  
Instantaneously, Kenma's face twists up into a scowl. "I'm not going to play volleyball. I'm not."  
  
"Ken _maaa!"_  
  
"I'm not." Slouching into his seat, Kenma looks as resolute as he possibly can, even with his bright pink drink clasped in his hands. "It's going to be exhausting. You'll want to play too many matches, too, and that on top of the sun sounds awful." He slouches further until his chin and mouth disappears under the neck of his hoodie. End of input.  
  
Just before Bokuto can badger him more, Akaashi cuts in. "He's right, though," Akaashi says neutrally. Purposefully pauses to eat a fry. "What kind of 'relaxing break' would it be if we're going to be playing volleyball? We'd be doing the same thing if we stayed here."  
  
"But it's on the _beach!"_  
  
"My point didn't change."  
  
Like he's been shot, Bokuto slumps against the table. Presses his cheek on the cool surface, pouty as hell. "Do you just not wanna go to the beach...? Is that it...?" he asks more to the table than to Akaashi.  
  
Akaashi flicks his eyes to Bokuto then back to his fries. "It's going to be packed. And hot. I'd rather go during autumn."  
  
"But that's the _point,"_ he whines. "The hot sands, the blazing sun, the hot _babes..."_  
  
Clicking his tongue distastefully, Kenma redirects his attention to his phone. "'Knew there was an ulterior motive." And he drops the conversation with that one simple move. Once again, Kuroo chokes on his drink. Fuck, he needs to stop _doing that—_  
  
"C'mon! I mean!" Bokuto rises up, slamming his hands on the table and nearly sends a fork flying. "We'd be showin' off our stuff while we play! There's gotta be someone who'd be impressed! Anyone who'd think we're cool!"  
  
"I don't think it's necessary to _try_ and look cool, Bokuto-san." While he speaks, Akaashi reorganizes the scattered cutlery, his motions very obviously a distraction from making eye contact. Kuroo salutes him in his thoughts. Even the strongest may fall to Bokuto's puppy-eyed look. "Regardless. I'm not keen on heat stroke. There's no sanctuary in hot water that's packed with people. I'd probably wouldn't go even if you said we wouldn't play volleyball, it's just not the right season for it."  
  
"But..." Bokuto flounders. Actually droops. Poor dude looks like all of his dreams have been crushed right in front of his eyes and its crumbly remnants scattered to the wind. Right around now, Kuroo decides he's finally had his fill of letting Kenma and Akaashi rip into his silly plans, and pats Bokuto's knuckles.  
  
"It's alright, big guy," he says, not quite keeping the grin from his voice, "I'm down to go. When are ya free?"  
  
And, he sees Kenma briefly roll his eyes into oblivion, Akaashi wince and brace. By some miraculous force, Bokuto does not _quite_ burst at the seams, but comes very close to.  
  
  
—  
  
  
[Bokuto 10:22 A.M.]  
_TETSU  
COME OUT  
FRONT DOoR  
NOW !!! !_  
  
It takes him a couple minutes to actually read the message, still groggy. He's been awake for the better part of an hour, but he's been too lethargic, soaking in his sweaty bed. Blegh. Even with all the covers kicked off into a pile at the end of his bed, he's still sweating profusely. The little portable fan he's got set up on his side table is cranked to its highest setting, too! _This is bullshit,_ he thinks, closing his eyes and breathing slow, _if he thinks I'm gonna go outside in this heat, this early..._  
  
It's a little foreboding, that message. A little suspicious. Bokuto has no limits, and that will not change today. Even if he were to ignore the message, it would not stop him. Bokuto Koutarou is a force to be reckoned with.  
  
So he rolls out of bed.  
  
Wriggling on a pair of pants blindly grabbed from the floor, he clunkily makes his way down the stairs. He supposes it's a little miracle his mother isn't around to experience whatever Bokuto's got in store, or to even tease him about how this is the earliest he's ever been up during the break. Then she'd invite Bokuto inside for breakfast, regardless of whatever's waiting outside the door for him. Christ, she might even invite disaster _inside._ Have it sit at the table and hand it a plate of eggs.   
  
When he steps into the foyer, he can hear no immediately horrendous noises coming from outside, which actually _does_ narrow down the options of why in the hell he's been called out of his house. Still doesn't reduce the amount of disaster that may occur, but at least it probably won't bother the neighbors.  
  
He puts a little steel in his spine and opens the door.  
  
Something golden, small, and _very fast_ darts towards his knees and the next thing he knows he is flat on his ass, completely plowed over by what he belatedly realizes is a dog. All the air's knocked outta his lungs and he doesn't even get the _chance_ to recover, especially when there's suddenly dog tongue all over his face.  
  
"Shit!" He thinks he hears the gods laughing at him. Bastards. Somewhere behind his obscured view of _dog,_ Bokuto peers over him, face pinched apologetically, "Sorry, Tetsu! She got really excited and tore herself from my grip..." There's a sharp tug and the dog is pried of the top of him, finally letting him breathe.  
  
Since Kuroo's chemical makeup is one-hundred percent asshole, instead of asking _why do you have a dog_ since as of three seconds ago he was very sure Bokuto didn't own one, or even pulling himself up from his current sprawl on the floor first, he says, "Should you really be walking a dog if you can't even hold on to the leash?"  
  
Bokuto rocks back on his heels, a corgi squirming in his hands as it tries to lick his chin, gaping at Kuroo like he's been hit. "I'm a little hurt. Should I be hurt? Actually, yeah, I am. Y'know what, just for saying that, Petunia, get him." Without warning, he releases the dog.  
  
_"Petunia—?"_ Kuroo doesn't even get time to be boggled. With the force of a canon ball, the corgi crashes head first into his stomach _again_ , maybe bruising some of his ribs. His fate doesn't look too well, so he resigns to it and eases back onto the floor, letting the dog lick his cheeks and forehead to its hearts content. Halfheartedly he pushes the dog's face from his, staring up to the ceiling. "You... named your dog Petunia?" he asks. Petunia's ears perk up and she briefly pulls away, looking down to him as if waiting for a command. After a half second of nothing, she returns to her original plan of cleaning his face for him.  
  
From his peripheral he sees Bokuto move and resettle next to him, feels his knee pressing into his side. "I don't have a dog?"  
  
Kuroo looks pointedly at Petunia who is slobbering all over the front of his shirt.  
  
"OH!" Rather than helping him, Bokuto reaches out and gives Petunia a hearty rub on the head. Petunia licks his hand like a greeting. A fond look lingers in Bokuto's eyes and Kuroo tries not to ogle for too long. "Petunia's not my dog, she's my neighbors! Ya know the lil granny next door? She asked me to take care of her dog for a while since her son isn't around to do it, he's on a trip or something, and she's got bad knees 'n all..."  
  
"God, I was gonna say what kinda bullshit—" he throws an arm over his eyes, nudging Petunia away. Finally she seems to get the memo and bounds to over Bokuto. "There's no way you wouldn't name your dog something silly if given the chance," Kuroo says. Bokuto has the audacity to look mildly offended, opening his mouth to retaliate, and halts. Closes his mouth. Pouts.  
  
"Touché," squinting his eyes, Bokuto huffs. "I think Petunia is a _fine_ name, thank you very much!"  
  
"Never said it wasn't," he counters, then pulls himself up. "Just not one I'd think you'd go for. Maybe something like Soup."  
  
Looking up in thought, Bokuto nods like he's seriously considering it. "Hmm! Soup! Not bad! I was gonna go for something like Chad, or..."  
  
_"Chad?"_  
  
"It's fun!"  
  
"I don't think I could ever look at your dog and _not_ lose it if you named it _Chad."_  
  
Bokuto gasps dramatically. "How could you! It's a lovely name!" Leaning down, he bonks his forehead with Petunia's, getting almost face-to-face with her. Well. About as face-to-face he can get with such an antsy dog. "Petunia, don't you think it's a good name?" Petunia, such a darling, hops up and tries licking his nose. He laughs, though it'd probably be more correct to call it a giggle, scratching beneath the dog's jaw. "Yeah! I know! It's brilliant!"   
  
Although he could sit here for hours, just watching Bokuto mess with this little corgi, laugh softer but just as bright, they _are_ currently just sitting in his doorway with the door open, the heat crawling in. He can hear the phantom voice of his mom scolding him, _Tetsurou, what the fuck, close the goddamn door, do you even know how much of the heat is coming in?_   
  
"I'm guessing you didn't just bring her here to show her off, right?" Kuroo says pointedly. Both of them look up at him, eyes all sparkly 'n shit. _Dammit_ , he thinks, squinting, _it's already enough of a bright morning._  
  
"I thought about just going on a jog and taking her along, and I was, actually!" Bokuto says, lolling his head back to look up at the ceiling. Kuroo takes the moment to actually glance at his clothes— shorts, his usual kneepads, loose shirt. There's a very slight sheen of sweat on his arms and neck. "Then I passed your house and thought, hey, why don't I get Tetsurou?"  
  
"You woke me up to go _jogging_ with you?"  
  
"With me _and_ Petunia!" he reiterates, lifting Petunia up slightly like he's presenting her. Her tail wags with the force of typhoon winds and audibly smacks against Bokuto's bicep.  
  
Now. He has two options. Option one: go with Bokuto and sweat his ass off outside. Option two: _don't_ go with Bokuto, get his persistent, moping messages, and sweat his ass off inside. Both options are gross and sweaty.  
  
Obviously. _Obviously_.  
  
Kuroo literally has to keep himself from grinning too too wide, reaching over to prod at the fleshy part of Bokuto's side. "Ya convinced me. Lemme change first. Help yourself to the freezer if you want."  
  
Bokuto cheers and, by extension of excitement, Petunia howls with him.   
  
  
—  
  
  
The teenager with sugar-pink hair at the ice cream stand greets them by name. Almost even has their usual order ready for them by the time they step up.  
  
To change things up, Kuroo gets a fudge pop. Dunno why— maybe it's just a chocolate kind of day.  
  
Bokuto _hmm_ s and _haa_ s in contemplation for five minutes. Familiar with his antics, the sugar-pink teenager lets him take his time. A queue of children has formed behind him, but none of them are putting up a fit— some of them even give him their _input_. ("The sonic one tastes more like blueberries!", "Strawberry's my favorite! Get that one!!")  
  
In the end Bokuto still gets his usual absurdly bright popsicle, a fluorescent-neon blue so obscenely blue it absorbs all surrounding light, though he's mopey whenever he leaves the stand.  
  
"It's not like we don't come here all the time," Kuroo drawls, almost done with his by the time Bokuto comes shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He didn't think it was possible to be this put out by ice cream choices, but this may be the saddest he's seen Bokuto ever since his last funk in a volleyball match.  
  
"But... but..." Almost glumly, Bokuto pulls the wrapper off and takes a bite. Never has he looked so unenthusiastic about his electric-blue pop before. "I wanted to get Bubbles..."  
  
Kuroo points his fudge pop at him accusingly. "You just wanted to see how fucked up her face could get."  
  
"Well, yeah!" Shocked, like he's surprised Kuroo has the audacity to state the obvious. "They're always funny! The last one I got didn't even have eyes!"  
  
"I remember that, yeah." The poor Bubbles pop not only was missing the whites of her eyes, but her pigtails had ended up in her cheeks. He's not entirely sure why the two of them had found it so funny in the moment, but they sure as hell did. Both of them had nearly collapsed onto the pavement from how much they howled with laughter— he's pretty sure a couple of bystanders thought they were on drugs or dying. He grins fondly.  
  
"Besides, I always end up getting this one!" Bokuto whines, his teeth already turning blue, "I mean, I like this one, but the Bubbles has its own kinda vibe to it, y'know? The chaotic energy of the fuck-up that's doomed for it and the gumballs for eyes. Love that crunch."  
  
Kuroo grins, exasperated, the remnants of the popsicle stick between his teeth. "I have no clue what you're talking about, man."  
  
In no particular rush, they meander along the sidewalk. Beside them, the river glitters with the sun's reflection, only blinding Kuroo whenever Bokuto's accidentally a small step behind to block out the glare. They're at the riverside that's caught somewhere between both their homes, not too horrible a walk from either to be an inconvenience. Whenever they have time to hang, they come around here.   
  
"So!" Bokuto beams once he's made a significant dent in his popsicle, fist pumped up in the air. With a plop, a small chunk of his popsicle flings onto the pavement. The lack of reaction from him is either him not noticing or not letting it get to him. "The beach!"  
  
"The beach," Kuroo nods. "This Wednesday."  
  
"This Wednesday!" Bokuto crows, excitement exponentially growing with each passing second.   
  
"I finally got some air into my volleyball, so we can use it when we go!" Bokuto says. He pats his bag where there's a very obvious volleyball-sized bulge. Of course he brought it along with him. Of course. "Though, I think there's a specific kind of volleyball we're meant to use at the beach? Er... because it... floats? Doesn't hurt as much when you spike it?"  
  
"That's just a beach ball, y'know, the inflatable red-blue-yellow balls?" Kuroo motions with his hand although he's not exactly sure what he's trying to gesture. "Not really specific for beach volleyball. Some people use it. They're inflatable, though. We— well, _you_ might accidentally pop it if we use one."  
  
Gasping, Bokuto swipes at him. "What! I would _not!!"_  
  
Kuroo raises his eyebrows. "You nearly popped a _regular_ volleyball with your super-inner-deluxe-crosses. An inflatable one would be vanquished in a single hit from you, you volleyball _beast._ We'd probably be playing with people who _aren't_ volleyball players, too— Imagine the collateral damage. I don't think I'm ready to see you actually shatter someone's arm," he says drily.  
  
Grimacing, Bokuto surprisingly does not counter his point. "See, if Akaashi and Kenma were to come, we wouldn't have to worry..." he murmurs through the side of his mouth. Not quite bitter. Maybe edging on bitter. Maybe he's a little bit more hurt by their immediate refusal of the plan that Kuroo initially thought.  
  
"Nah, I think it might be for the better," Kuroo says flippantly. Cocking an eyebrow, Bokuto just gives him a _look._ "Well. Yeah, I mean, them not coming means we have no setters or braincells with us, but that means we have all the more freedom to do whatever we _want,"_ he points out, like he's revealing a hidden secret. "Also. Even if Kenma came with us, he woulda stayed underneath an umbrella the whole time, playin' on his gameboy. Completely invalidates the reason of going to the beach."  
  
Humming considerately, with his chin between his thumb and finger, Bokuto actually perks up, dawning on the possibilities. "Yer right. 'Kaashi's too nice, so he would keep Kenma company, so then regardless..."  
  
"Bingo," grinning, Kuroo pats him heavily on the shoulder. "So now that they're not coming— we literally have nothing stopping us!"  
  
"Do you think we can rent _surfboards?"_ Honest to god, Bokuto _twinkles_ he's so damn excited with the idea. "I've never surfed before! We could go _surfing!"  
_  
Kuroo has to bite down very hard on his tongue to keep from immediately saying _let's do it._ "I mean. Just because our residential braincells won't be there doesn't mean we should go do wacky shit that may end up with one of us drowned. 'Kaashi would skin me."   
  
"What are ya talkin' about? We can totally get someone to teach us!"   
  
"I think it just might be better to test the waters, yeah?" A little overwhelmed by the enthusiasm, Kuroo backtracks. "Next time we go to the beach we can surf. First we gotta make sure we can make it without a disaster playing volleyball there. Or accidentally wiping out some old grandma if the wind fucks with us whenever we're playing."  
  
Which reminds him—  
  
"Ah, _shit._ Wait a fuckin'—" Kuroo nearly drops both his phone with how quickly he pulls it from his pocket. Currently occupied with a bite of ice, Bokuto just peers curiously at him. He scrolls through the calendar he's got on his phone almost desperately, spotting Wednesday and the date—  
  
"Shit. I can't make it this week," he mutters, a scowl pulling at his face. Scratches at his cheek to keep it from cutting too deep. Dammit, how the hell did he _forget?_ "My gram's birthday is this Tuesday. Ma's been designated as party host, and..." He cranes his head back and groans at the sky. "Fucking hell. My whole extended family's gonna be here for like, three days! I can't believe I _forgot."_  
  
"You forgot your grandma's _birthday?"_ Bokuto says, scandalized. Even covers his mouth in a shocked gasp, like he's some horrified maiden from the eighteenth century hearing something uncouth. Dramatic asshole. "What a horrible grandson!"  
  
"Hey, I don't want to hear anything, you barely remember your _own,"_ Kuroo snipes back, punctuating with the popsicle stick.  
  
Bokuto shrugs, beaming. Not a damn care in the world. "I always have you to remember for me, anyways! I at least remember my granny's. Unlike _someone_ here..."  
  
Kuroo snorts. "Bastard," he says, elbowing Bokuto, which consequently nearly sends the popsicle flying from his hands. "I wish I could just bail, but I know my mom would give me shit for the next decade if I did."  
  
Eyebrows shooting up, Bokuto smacks his arm both, maybe in retaliation, maybe not. Maybe he's shocked? _"Dude!_ Our beach trip isn't that important, you shouldn't skip out on family just to hang with me! Your mom'll give _me_ shit, too, if I let you come along!"  
  
"I see your true motive, you bastard. You just want my mom to like you enough to let you steal shit from our fridge," he accuses. Bokuto has the gall to not look ashamed of being found out.  
  
"Anyways, you're a helluva lot more fun to be around, y'know?" Kuroo continues, tipping his head back, back until he can't go further. He feels a little bare, talking like this. About this. "You don't ask me about the college I'm gonna go to or how I'm still single. Is that just an old person thing? To snoop in my life?" Gnawing on the popsicle stick, he shoves his phone back into his pocket begrudgingly. "Plus, you wanted to go this week. You've already gotten everything ready, right? We shouldn't have to push it off because I forgot about a family reunion."  
  
"Wuh?" Bokuto only looks slightly perplexed. He bites down on his popsicle in thought. "If we can't do it this week, we can just do it next, right?" He says around his bite, like it's the most obvious thing in the whole universe, the only possible answer. A bead of melted popsicle runs down the wooden stick, spilling across Bokuto's fingers. He awkwardly gurgles, unmelted ice still in his mouth, and he tries his best to lick the trail and proceeds to knock himself in the forehead with the ice pop.  
  
It's. Endearing, maybe, if not completely embarrassing to watch.  
  
_Ahh,_ Kuroo thinks and averts his eyes. His neck is warm under the sun.  
  
"Alright, then," Kuroo says, rubbing at the back of his neck, "Same time next week? I swear I won't get wrapped up in anything."  
  
The grin Bokuto has rivals the sun above them. "I'm holding you to that! You're gonna buy me a Bubbles pop if you skip out!!"  
  
  
—  
  
  
"Man, is the AC even _on?"_ Yamamoto knocks his head against the wall after collapsing against it. There's a pause as he inhales half his waterbottle. "I'm. I'm melting."  
  
"It's on," Shibayama says though he doesn't sound all too convinced, even though he's planted directly in front of the airflow. He and Inuoka look like they'd like to crawl into the AC unit since maybe that would be cooler. Kenma lays nearby, almost dead.  
  
"It sure doesn't feel like it's on," Kenma says into the floor.  
  
Kuroo reaches down and pulls on the back of his shirt. The noise of his shirt peeling off his back is, quite frankly, really gross. "C'mon— get up, you're gonna become a puddle there."  
  
"I might."  
  
"No, you're not," Yaku swoops in, forcing a water bottle into his hands. When Kenma doesn't move immediately Yaku threatens, "I'm not going to force you to drink if you don't move, but I'm going to force you to drink if you don't move."  
  
Immediately Kenma moves. "Don't."  
  
"Can we end practice early?" Lev cries from his place sprawled out on the floor. Fumbling with his water bottle, Kuroo watches as Haiba Lev, residential skyscraper and airhead of Nekoma, tips the bottle back and accidentally waterboards himself. Kuroo presses his mouth into a thin line, trying to keep his expression unchanging. From beside him, Yaku's turned away, shoulders shaking.  
  
Kuroo glances towards the clock. It's not too far into practice, maybe forty minutes. Usually by this type they're all raring to go, just getting started into their groove, but as he looks around, there's unmistakable sheen of sweat already layered on the floorboards and everyone's moving so _sluggishly_. Even at training camp they're not this exhausted, not even on the final days.  
  
"If you don't mind going home in this heat right now, I can talk to coach about it," he offers. Lev's face twists like he's tasting something nasty.  
  
"Neither sound _good."_ Lev says hoarsely, using his shirt as a rag to wipe off his face. His face is just as damp as it was before when he pulls his shirt away. He groans. "I can't even wipe off my face! My shirt's already too sweaty to even _absorb_ it! I think my face just got more wet..."  
  
Yaku's eyebrows raise like he cannot even fathom. "So you just smeared all of your sweat onto your face?"  
  
"That's fucking gross, dude," Yamamoto laughs, more amused than disgusted.   
  
"It's just sweat! It's _natural!"_ Lev screeches, growing embarrassed, flushing even more under his skin. "I was already sweating on my face!"  
  
Teshiro, an angel, gives Lev a towel to save himself. As Lev scrubs at his face, Teshiro looks towards Kuroo, curious. "Would it even be wise to end practice today? It's meant to get hotter this week, then we'll have to practice in that since we'd've stopped this one."  
  
_"Hotter?"_ Lev blurts, jerking the towel from his face to gape. Even though he just toweled off his face, the sweat just reappears. "It's already hotter than the sun! It _can't_ get hotter than this!"  
  
"That's what a heatwave _does,_ dumbass," Yaku grumbles. "Are you even _from_ Tokyo? It's like this every summer." He nudges Lev's thigh not unkindly, but sharp enough to get him moving. "C'mon, nothing gets to ya, but some shitty weather does?"  
  
Although hesitantly, Kuroo calls for break. No one audibly protests, but he sees it in the dragging of feet, the slant of shoulders. At least they're good sports about it. Except for Lev.  
  
He'll have to check with Nekomata about calling practice over early today.   
  
  
—  
  
  
If he were an asshole, he could say _'I told you so!'_ and point and laugh. But he's not an asshole. He's nice.  
  
So he says: "Dude, you look like a _cherry."_  
  
Bokuto shoots him what's possibly the sharpest frown he's ever seen on him. It _should_ be threatening since Bokuto has never given him such a stink eye, but the skin on his face is bright pink and there is no way on the planet he can take him seriously like this.  
  
The smile that threatens to split across his face almost slips by him, so he has to press a hand to his mouth to keep it from growing. Though he can try, there's no way he can keep the amusement from the tail of his words. "How in the _hell_ did this happen?"  
  
Parked on a stool in the bathroom, Bokuto fidgets with his shirt in his hands, borderline embarrassed. His back is open for the viewing, the tanned expanse of it abruptly changing to an angry pink in clean lines at each of his shoulders and a wide scoop on his nape, along with a small gradation on the small of his back from where his shirt probably rode up. With how the sunburn's nearly _glowing_ it's so bright, he's surprised it isn't audibly sizzling.  
  
"That's the _thing,"_ Bokuto rocks back in his seat, miserable, "I didn't even do anything! Well, not on purpose, but..." he flings his hands up in exasperation, nearly tossing the shirt with the motion. "I was just playin' with some of the kids next door, since their dad had to go get food for dinner— I wasn't even out there that _long!"_  
  
"So, due to the kindness in your heart, you've... fried, for a lack of better words," Kuroo snorts. There's no other word to describe the way his skin is radiating heat. If he was out there for any longer, Kuroo's worried his skin would have started blistering and boiling. Unsurprisingly, the heatwave's been unyielding.  
  
Bokuto blinks. Gasps with his whole chest. "Oh god, I hope they didn't get as burned as I did—! It was so fucking hot earlier—" He straightens up and for a second Kuroo's pretty sure he's going to leap to his feet and sprint to their house, just to make sure they're alright, up in arms with bottles and bottles of aloe vera.  
  
"They probably didn't," he quickly intercedes, almost reaching out for Bokuto's shoulders to guide him back to the stool but deflects his motion last second. There's no place on his shoulders that's not burnt, and he's not physically or mentally prepared to face the reaction if he were to even touch the sensitive burns. Unaware of his brief dilemma, Bokuto peers up to him, puppy-eyed, unsure, jittery. Kuroo sighs through his nose. "They probably didn't burn. Since... well, I'm assuming you went out to get the mail or something and the dad roped you into watching them while he went out, right?"  
  
"Right!" he nods enthusiastically.  
  
"So they were probably already planning to play outside," he points out, "hence, they probably had sunscreen on already. Unlike you, who didn't plan on staying out there aside from getting the mail."  
  
Bokuto _ahhs_ in understanding, settling back into his seat. "Makes sense!" He leans back, back until he touches the cool wall behind him. A wince scrunches up his face but he relaxes once the initial pain of the sunburn fades from the chill. "I just wasn't expecting to scorch like I did. I've been outside for longer and never got burned! I really did get screwed over today, huh! Does a heatwave also mean that UV rays get stronger?"  
  
"Maybe," Kuroo shrugs solemnly. He himself feels the heat of a sunburn growing on the back of his neck, tips of his ears— he was outside for, how long? A couple of minutes to the station, then couple to walk here? It's probably an actual miracle Bokuto didn't straight up get sun poisoning.   
  
He enters the bathroom a little more, resting against the counter with his arms crossed. "So. You didn't just call me over just so I could laugh at you, right?"  
  
A pout pulls at his face. It's more of a subdued pout— probably because it hurts to be expressionate with burns that bad. He looks very sheepish for a moment, and Kuroo honestly cannot tell if his face just got pinker or not. He moves to rub his neck and immediately pulls away once he touches it, making a face. "I... I needed someone to put the aloe stuff on the spots I can't reach..."  
  
The acoustics of the bathroom amplifies Kuroo's laughter to a deafening note. He doesn't mean to laugh this hard, he swears, but it's just so— so cute of him.  
  
"You—" he wipes under his eye, getting dangerously close to straight up giggling. Bokuto's coiled up like a spring, pouting, embarrassed. "—couldn't you get your mom to help you? or your dad?"  
  
"It's! It's embarrassing!" he whines, throwing his shirt at Kuroo's face. "And besides, they're out for the day! And I mean—!!"  
  
"Why not Akaashi? He lives closer than I do!"  
  
"I didn't want to bother him!"  
  
"So you wanted to bother _me?"_ He guesses Bokuto doesn't catch the amused lilt in his voice because guilt flashes across his face. The tension bleeds from him until he's slouching.  
  
"'Kaashi woulda lectured me on being more cautious," he slumps against his knees, staring at the tiles on the floor, "I knew you woulda just laughed and, like, told me to be careful, but I wouldn't feel as ridiculous as I would've felt if it were Akaashi..." Abruptly, he straightens up. "Not that I don't appreciate his fretting! I know it's kinda weird, so, I, uh..."  
  
Ahh. He gets that. He wonders if Kenma feels like that whenever he scolds him for staying up late and playing video games. Then again, Kenma's not a soft-hearted beefcake— he honestly probably doesn't give a shit about what Kuroo says, seeing that he _still_ does it.  
  
Kuroo just waves off the worry. "Nah, I get it. It's a little less embarrassing since the worst I'll do is poke fun at you. Where's the Banana Boat stuff?"  
  
"Under the sink," Bokuto says automatically, then freezes. And, like a dawning sun, his expression brightens. "Bro...?"  
  
Kuroo's knees crack when he crouches down to the sink cabinets. Deep in the corner, past an unfathomable stock of hair gel, is the soothing lotion. "I'm already here, so I might as well," he shrugs, grin growing alongside Bokuto's.  
  
(As if. Even if Bokuto was forthright whenever he messaged him under the guise of _'tetsu pls its URGENT'_ , he'd still come over and help.)  
  
(Whipped.)  
  
"Te _tsuuu_ ," he cries, reaching out like he wants to tackle him in a hug but physically cannot. "You're an absolute lifesaver, man! I can do my arms just fine, I just can't reach my back..."  
  
"I mean, it's just the nape of your neck. A little below it. You can't reach that?" Kuroo asks, stepping around Bokuto and taking a seat on the tub's edge. In a near habitual motion, like they've _done_ this before, Bokuto immediately leans back and slots right between Kuroo's knees.  
  
He pointedly does _not_ think anything of it, not at all, and chalks it up as _it's easier for me to reach this way_. He does _not_ think about how warm Bokuto's skin is, even if it's not the sunburnt parts. Not even about how Bokuto tips his head back, nearly knocking the crown of his head into Kuroo's nose, how the smile curves his eyes from this angle.  
  
Not at all. Nope.  
  
Shirking, Bokuto shakes his head, the motion pulling Kuroo from inside his head. "My shoulders are tender since, y'know, they're crispy." To show, he raises his arm as high as it can go without making him strain— which, understandably, isn't very high. Maybe high enough to pluck something off a low hanging shelf. "And I'm not flexible at all! Even if I was able to move my arms more, I don't think I can reach it? I don't... really know how far it goes down, I can't really see it. And I can't really feel it out..."  
  
"It starts riiiight here." Kuroo presses the pad of his finger shy of where the pink starts, right above where his shoulder blades meet. Immediately he feels and sees every part of Bokuto tense up, ridged. It startles a laugh from him and he retracts his finger, and like an off switch, Bokuto slumps back down.  
  
"Dude," Bokuto laughs with his belly, the sound taking up the entire space of the room. He misses by a wide berth when he swings around to smack him. "You gotta gimme some kinda warning! That scared the shit outta me!" The muscles in his back dance as he straightens up, rolling his shoulders, and, frankly, it's a little distracting. Kuroo takes to looking at the soft hair curling at his nape instead. Which doesn't help. _Shit._  
  
"Well, this _is_ rather intimate," he says right over his inner turmoil because he is a man of composure, he cannot, will not, let this be where he loses it. "Ya sure you're not squeamish enough for me to do this?"  
  
Bracing, Bokuto says, "I'm ready for whatever you've got for me!"  
  
"Then I'll be sure to _slather you up,"_ he says lowly, squirting the aloe into his palm. The pump sputters, making a weird goopy noise, and his whole ambience of being even _slightly_ risqué is ruined instantly.  
  
Whole bodied, Bokuto shivers. Laugh reaching squeaky, he twists around, planting a palm on Kuroo's face and shoving. _"Dude._ I'm literally a french fry right now. A fuckin' hush-puppy! No innuendos, please, it _really_ hurts to smile like this! Keep it tame!!" Kuroo's nearly too entranced by the pitch of the laugh that he forgets himself and nearly flips backwards into the tub.  
  
"What! That's what I do best, though!"  
  
"Banana Boat just _isn't_ sexy enough, Tetsu!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, sure," he says, and without warning, smears the lotion across Bokuto's neck. Bokuto shrieks.  
  
"I said _warn me!!"_  
  
"Oops."  
  
  
—  
  
  
"I could kill you," Kenma grumbles, impatiently tucking his hair behind his ears. It slides right back out from behind his ear, damp with sweat. The entirety of him sags, like he's about to melt into a puddle on the pavement. "I could really kill you right now."  
  
It's easy to pretend he doesn't see the smoldering glare he's being given. He's dealt with it for... how many years now? Shrugging it off is just as easy as swiping a bug off his skin. "The gym has air conditioning. C'mon, we're already halfway there." He specifically does not say anything about how both of them and every person under the sun knows the gym's AC is shitty at best. And at least twelve teenage boys crammed in front of it? It can't even be called cooling at that point.  
  
Kenma huffs. He shifts his gym bag in a restless motion, pulling at his shirt. "Why are we practicing in this hell weather," he grumbles, "I'm already exhausted. I want to go home."  
  
"We've been let off the hook a whole lot recently— we gotta at least actually get some practice in instead of just calling it a day after warm ups."  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes, we have to."  
  
"No," he gripes. His hands flutter around again, pushing back his hair, readjusting his bag, fanning with his shirt. "We are going to be perfectly fine if we miss out on practice because of a heatwave. There's no matches in forever. We can practice when it's not hotter than satan's ass outside."  
  
"Sure, but then we'll have missed out chances to level up. You want to go against Hinata at your best, don't you?"  
  
From his peripheral, he sees Kenma straighten up. He grins. Hook, line, sinker.  
  
Kenma scrunches his nose and swings a hand at Kuroo's gut. "I hate you."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"I'm not doing this. I do. I'm about to die in my own sweat and other teenage boys sweat and it's going to suck. I could be at home right now. I'm out here, going to die in this shitty heatwave, because of you."  
  
"It's just sweat. You're already sweaty," Kuroo points out, "so it's just sweat on top of sweat."  
  
"And? you think I want to get even more sweaty? Bold of you," Kenma seethes, shoving the gym doors open with more force than necessary.   
  
Entering the gym feels like entering a goddamn sauna, and practice hasn't even _started_ yet. Kuroo mourns in advanced. He's glad this is one of the practices they do without Nekomata around— he's not sure if it'd be alright for the old man to move in this temperature.  
  
"Ah, Kenma!" Lev cries from inside the locker room, somehow still excitable in this oven of a gym.  
  
"Don't come near me," Kenma seethes before disappearing behind the locker room doors.  
  
Kuroo tilts his head back. Breathes in deeply. This is going to fucking suck.  
  
  
  
  
Twenty minutes into practice they've had four breaks. The breaks so far have consisted of refilling and refilling their bottles they've been drained so fast. Also a lot of laying around. Sweaty imprints are spotted across the floorboards from where they've laid. They're almost like chalk outlines for bodies. The analogy feels a little morbid.  
  
Frankly, at this rate, they'll have laid around more than done any substantial practice. He thought that the AC coulda helped somewhat in the slightest— he probably should have known it's practically useless after it reaches a certain temperature outside.  
  
On the fifth break, Lev loses it.  
  
"Wait, wait, wait," Lev whines, clutching the spout with a desperation, "I thought global warming would get us all in thirty years! Why is it happening now?! Heatwaves just aren't _like this!!"_  
  
"Move, you big idiot," Yaku grits, giving Lev a hard shove that doesn't result in much, seeing how Lev is quite literally wrapped around the spout. There's a real chance of bodily harm that Lev does not seem to realize yet. "It's just a heatwave, dumbass. There's no way its global warming— imagine the kinda crap we woulda have to have done to cut the expectancy by thirty, to make the temperatures that bad."  
  
Lev shoves back. Why is he putting up a fight. Why did he think it was okay to wrap himself around the spigot, Kuroo wonders, briefly considering using his power as captain to get him the fuck off. He wants his damn water. He's going to become horrifically dehydrated from sweating, standing right here. "Its not that hard to believe! Seeing what corporations can do, if they all just said screw it, the ozone layer could be gone in a snap! The greenhouse effect could go into tenfold with their word!"  
  
Kai swoops in to refill his bottle when Yaku solidly plants his foot on Lev's gut, which, surprisingly, unsurprisingly, leads to a scuffle. "It's only this prefecture," Kai cuts into Lev's hysteria, sounding not in the least worried, though he's sweat covered and already going for another refill he just drank all of it so fast. What a saint. "I have relatives in Hyougo and they've said it's not like this there."  
  
"But that's also _Hyougo_ , which is, like, far away!"  
  
"Very eloquent of you, Lev."  
  
"Why _here?"_ Finally, Lev peels away from the faucet, falling away with Yaku's foot in his gut. He flops straight back onto the pavement and nearly gets trampled now that the water's free again. "Ow—! How— how could global warming just get concentrated in one area? That doesn't make sense!"  
  
"It's not global warming," Kenma says absently. There's a flurry of emoticons on his phone screen that can only come from one Hinata Shouyo. He shoves the device into his pocket once he notices the cheeky curve of Kuroo's eyes. "It's kind of like a monsoon that's just moving slow. But instead of rain, it's heat."  
  
"But what coulda even made this kind of thing happen? I've never heard of anything like that," Inuoka wonders aloud. The absolute god-send, he helps Lev from the ground where he probably would've stayed.  
  
"Supernatural," Fukunaga pops in sagely, wiggling his fingers in his strange emphasis. Lev and Inuoka collectively scrunch their faces up, unbelieving.  
  
Kenma shrugs. "At this rate it doesn't seem that far-fetched."  
  
"It's just a test of willpower, ain't it?" Taketora says, squirting the water from his bottle with such force it actually makes him choke when it hits a certain spot in the back of his throat. From beside him, Kenma makes such a face at the word willpower and the gurgling. "The more resilient we are in this kind of heat, the better we'll be in matches, right?"  
  
Smiling politely but with an exasperation around the edges, Kai says, "I'm not sure what kind of conditioning this would even be. I doubt we'll have any matches in this kind of heat."  
  
Because he's so nice and also the captain, he lets everyone else on the team refill their waters first. Finally, _finally,_ he can refill his. Kuroo feels a century-old weariness when he finally takes an endless gulp. "Let's just call it off for today," he decides.   
  
  
—

  
"—clocking in at 39 degrees, it's officially the hottest day in Tokyo this summer! There's a sparing amount of clouds out today, but don't rely on them for cover. Take precaution going outside today, drink plenty of water—"

Pulling at the neck of his shirt, Kuroo tries to lend his ear more, but the broadcast's cutting out. Behind the counter the store attendant curses, flicking at the radio which looks a little too archaic to even been working in the first place. It reaches static before the spokesperson's voice becomes somewhat comprehensible again, the tinniness of the radio nearly drowning out every word.

From somewhere deeper in the store he can hear Bokuto still humming about which drink to choose. They took a pitstop here both because they were thirsty and because they may just have turned to mush if they stayed outside any longer. The broadcaster sounds a little too chipper about the damn heat than she needs to be.

Asshole. She's probably in some lovely air-conditioned building, unbothered by this bullshit. He's out here in this crummy store with the only form of relief coming from a rickety fan on the counter.

Ugh. _Uuughhh._

Something very, very cold touches his neck. The noise he lets out is too high pitched, something he would love to say didn't come from him, but sadly, unfortunately, it does. Whirling around, he snatches the bottle from Bokuto's hands, who's face is so scrunched up to keep from laughing it's practically a raisin.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Kuroo says blandly, jabbing at Bokuto's side with the bottle. Bokuto screeches.

"You jumped! You actually jumped!" He's laughing too hard to even try and fight back. Each jab he gets to the side he shrieks at, folding in more on himself until he's basically crouched over. Kuroo decides to spare him for a moment to let him breathe. "You jumped, like, two feet in the air! Like a cat!" Comically, Bokuto gasps even louder. Unfolds like a dry sponge getting a splash of water. "Like a CAT! _DUDE—"_

"Don't say it."

"NEKOMA—"

Kuroo smothers Bokuto before his volume can amp up even more. "Understood, you've made this joke a billion times, alma mater cats, I'm basically a cat, yeah, yeah," he mocks. Bokuto's eyes crease up and he's laughing again, against Kuroo's hand, which is a weird feeling, so he peels it off before it gets weirder. "I can't believe you still find those kind of jokes funny. Bird brain."

"Ex _cuse_ you, but owls are the smartest creature out there!" Bokuto puffs up like he's personally proud of it.

"They're literally not." Kuroo pokes his tongue out at the abashed gasp. "Crows have you beat. Even pigeons are smarter than owls."

The look of pure hurt on his face is hysterical. He actually goes through a facial adventure, which touches upon rage, grief, confusion, betrayal— before he just mutters: "Fuckin' _Karasuno..."_

Snorting hard enough it hurts, Kuroo puts a hand on Bokuto's shoulder to steer him out of the store. The second they step out, it's like walking into a different world, a different _universe_. He might be imagining it, but Kuroo feels the sweat immediately grow on his spine and soak through his shirt. Gross. Bokuto grumbles something deep. Wipes the sweat from under his eyes. They power on.

Maybe three minutes out in the heat and all energy they had earlier has sapped out of them and dissipated into the atmosphere. He thinks he saw it go with the heat coming from the pavement.

He is basically half his height he is sagging from the heat so much. Each step he takes the more he wilts. Perhaps not all that strangely, he can relate to the foliage they're passing, a grim shade of brown instead of their usual green. He, too, feels like he's withering at the edges. Overheating, dehydrated, about to set ablaze from the sun rays. In the false kinship he feels in the moment, he briefly considers sharing some water with the plants. Then he realizes that's stupid. Ridiculously stupid. There is not enough for both him and every single willowing plant out here.

"It's hot," Bokuto says, tone flat for once. When Kuroo glances over, his face is so scrunched up in a grimace so intensely Kuroo's momentarily scared it won't come off his face. "It's _hot."_

"Bo, if you keep talking about it, you'll only be more aware of it," Kuroo grits, lacking bite. The water bottle's already losing its blissfully cold condensation. He presses it to the back of his neck anyway— anything feels like a blessing against the sun.

"Te- _tsu_ -rou!" Bokuto bursts, gesturing wildly, almost knocking Kuroo's elbow. It's a miracle he can even move this animatedly in this hellish beatdown. "I'm sweating my entire weight, man! I can feel the sweat between my toes! It might be _pooling_ in my _shoe—"_

Grimacing, Kuroo presses the water bottle to the side of his face. The chill of the bottle seeps into his skin, an immediate comfort. He rolls it up his cheek, trying to sap out every degree of chilliness. Beads of condensation run down his face and he can feel it evaporating right off of his skin. "Wanna try camping out in a konbini until it gets cooler?"

"Nah, man, we're already so close to your place," Bokuto says, though he looks like he'd rather do nothing but exactly that. What an absolute trooper. "It's only gonna get hotter the longer we wait, right? Unless we stay till night, which like, defeats the whole purpose."

Kuroo, however, is not as strong willed as Bokuto. If he wasn't here, Kuroo would stop at every damn store to keep from being outside for longer than thirty seconds. But he is here. So he resigns himself to Bokuto's reasoning.

It is going to be a long walk.

Almost twenty-five minutes later and six stops for breathers along the way, they spill into his house, practically falling over each other once the door gives way. Near immediately Bokuto slings his bag onto the floor, punts his shoes off, but hesitates when he grabs the hem of his shirt. "Is your mom home?" he asks meekly.

Kuroo makes a face at his shoelaces, boggled. "What? I don't think she is."

"Cool." And in one fluid motion, his shirt comes flying off. He lets out a long yell that audibly comes from deep within his gut. "Aaaaugh! It's _HOOOT!"_ Dragging his feet and his shirt, Bokuto moves sluggishly further into the house, specifically towards the kitchen. There's a loud thump and then what sounds like a body slumping onto the floor. Then a long wail. Slowly, it tapers, until it is no more.

Peering around the corner Kuroo finds that Bokuto had clipped his hip on the kitchen counter and unfortunately has passed away. He nudges the body with his foot when he passes. The body stiffens. "You alright there?"

With his face squished against the floor it's a little impossible to truly understand what is said, but Bokuto probably says: "I think this floor might be the best thing I've ever felt."

Snorting, he jabs his foot into Bokuto's side just to be an asshole. Tugging open the fridge door, he almost collapses against it, more than willing to just sit here and soak the chill in. He allows himself to be selfish for four seconds. Four seconds seem so, so short, but if he allows any more than that, he may not move away, so he quickly acquires a cold bottle of water.

"Holy fuck." Suddenly Bokuto's voice sounds a helluva lot clearer. He's peeled himself from the floor, now resting on his forearms, eyes pinpointed on the fridge like he's a predator locked on prey. "That feels fucking awesome."

"What, the breeze?" Kuroo jokes. Moves to close the fridge door.

Almost like a crazed animal, Bokuto scuttles— there just _ain't_ another word to describe it— across the floor, planting himself directly in front of the fridges contents to purposefully prevent the door from being closed. Immediately, he sags, sighing, blissful.

A little befuddled, Kuroo laughs, bubbling. Bokuto's entire thigh is resting on his foot. "Dude?"

Bokuto simply reaches over and pats the spot next to him.

Kuroo's a simple man. Really. He allows himself a delegated amount of time to be selfish to be polite, to not be greedy. But this is an invite. So he goes. Sinking to his ass, he scoots closer and closer till his shoulder aligns beside Bokuto's and the edge of the door.

They probably look like idiots. They most definitely look like idiots. Both of them are sitting in front of the fridge's open door like they're starving, but instead of food, its the sweet bliss of chilly air. Sitting too close to each other to be even slightly comfortable, especially with how sweaty they are, but it's physically impossible to move from the sweet, sweet cold air. 

Bokuto's right, though. It feels fucking _awesome_.

"My mom will kill us if we keep doing this," Kuroo says airly. Simply saying it to say it. With no conviction he grabs the door handle as if to close it, but with both of their bodies in the way, it doesn't go further than pressing into his own thigh. He slumps against it instead.

Bokuto hums. He looks one step away from crawling straight into the fridge, the shelves and food be damned. Anything to lower his body temperature.

Neither of them move. 

As much as Kuroo himself would love to stay here, now that he's actually mentioned his mother he's _very_ aware that she will commit murder if she sees this. It takes nearly all of his perseverance to roll out of the fridge's way, now slumping against it so it would close. Unmoving, Bokuto only grunts when it hits him. Kuroo leans harder. No budge.

"Bro."

"Dude."

Kuroo presses his cheek against the door edge. It's blissfully cold. The sunburn on his cheeks feels like it's healing right up. "C'mon. You gotta move. I do not have the power to stop my mom."

Every single muscle in Bokuto's arms and back visibly tense up. It's been a track record recently, how much he's seen Bokuto shirtless. What, is he becoming the new Karasuno's Number 5? Allergic-to-wearing-shirts? "I can't. It's too nice," he near whispers, strained, like he's caught between a horrible detrimental decision of life and death.

Unyielding, Kuroo puts the rest of his weight on the door. The vegetable compartment digs into Bokuto's side. "Just close me in the fridge," Bokuto begs, sagging forwards.

"No can do," he says. If it were an option he'd do it himself, but if his gangly limbs won't fit, Bokuto's beefy ones sure as hell won't. He puts his hands on Bokuto's shoulders and pushes. With minimum force, he falls right over.

"Auuugh, Te _tsuuu!"_ he anguishes. Squirms like he's fight back to stop him, but is simply shoved out of the way. Like he's damming off the river of life, Kuroo closes the fridge door. Bokuto's very close to crying.

Heat lays heavy once the fridge air is used up. Bokuto has not moved, staring so longingly at the fridge. Not even blinking whenever Kuroo nudges him. 

It is not looking good for their beach trip. The thought pulls at his guts, pulling them down to his feet. If such a short walk stretched into twenty-five minutes, he's got no clue how long it'll take for them to get to the station. And once they're there—

Thinking about the train cars makes him feel a certain kind of dread. He nearly didn't make it outside for ten minutes. To be in a metal death trap with tons of other people, for maybe two hours... they'd emerge as goo. Could they even make it to the next station without completely melting into the seats? The station might even be shut down. He hasn't even checked. 

But it's just Tokyo, too— It's literally perfect at the beaches outside of Tokyo. Lovely temperatures, breezy days. Once they're outside of Tokyo, it's paradise.

Getting there's half the story.

"We're probably gonna have to raincheck for tomorrow, Bo," Kuroo says, knocking his head against the wall. Slouching, he inches down the wall, probably leaving a trail of sweat. Kinda disgusting. He honestly doesn't do anything to keep himself upright. Doesn't feel like he should.

For the second time, he's pushing this trip off, even though he knows how much Bokuto's prepared for it. Hell, he even went ahead and bought beach towels. (They were animal themed, too. Cats and Owls. They were so cute, Kuroo literally felt his heart squeeze when Bokuto showed him.)

Something doesn't quite wilt about Bokuto, but he slackens, sloping. "Okay," he says simply, pouting, and that's it. Kuroo waits for the refutal, the ' _it's not thaaat bad outside!'_ , the _'we can power through it!'_ He waits. Waits.

There is none.

Kuroo's stomach flips strangely, a weird dread in his gut, so he pulls himself upright to quell it.

"Hey," he says, quickly thinking of something, anything, to get that look off of Bokuto's face. With a curious expression, Bokuto rests his cheek atop his knee, waiting patiently. It's very cute of him. Kuroo distinctly pushes that thought aside and grins instead. "How does a water balloon fight sound to you?"

—

Practice is cancelled. Kuroo thanks every god under the sun. Someone would have died from practice if it were to happen— it'd probably be Lev, from either because he's got the heat tolerance of an ice cube or from Yaku's rage. Who knows.

However, during the time he would've been at practice, he finds he has absolutely nothing to do.

At this rate he might just fuse into the couch. His skin's already sticking, so it might as well just blend together. He can't practice volleyball, he might roast if he does it outside or break shit if he does it inside. The TV has nothing interesting on. He doesn't have school work he needs to catch up on. What is he even meant to _do?_

Audibly his skin tears from the couch when he rolls off. It doesn't hurt, but _christ_ , the noise— he winces. In a haze, he moves to the kitchen, now hungry since he has nothing else to do. 

When he opens the fridge with a grand swing, it's sad how hard it is to not crawl it. The popsicle box in the freezer is pathetically empty. Cursing the past him for leaving the fucking empty box like some kind of _asshole,_ getting his _hopes up,_ mother _fucker,_ he plucks it from the shelf and chucks in the trash. After he's relished in the ice crystals on it, of course.

He rests his forehead against the fridge door. 

Ahh. He wants some watermelon.

One-hundred percent on a whim, he goes to the store. 

(It might not have been his smartest idea, bogged by exhaustion and heat, but he makes it. Somehow.)

"Welcome," the cashier calls from somewhere in the store. Politely she does not say a thing when he takes a whole ten minutes just standing at the freezer section to cool down. She also does not say a thing about how he should definitely not be outside at the height of day. 

It's dead silent aside from the whirring of the plug-in fan at the counter and the cicadas outside. No one else is out and about. Usually, he can hear the chatter of the road outside, the screeches of children playing by the river. It's quiet. A damn ghost town outside. Is he in the Matrix? He's in the Matrix.

Maybe the heat's finally turning his brain to goo. He stands in front of the watermelon section for seven minutes before he realizes he's not actually in front of the watermelons, they're broccoli. He shuffles further down. Ah. There they are. Visibly there's no damn difference between the watermelons, but he still stands there and just looks at them, eying the textures. He gets a whole watermelon. 

"Everything alright, Tetsurou-kun?"

He honest to god jumps, three inches off the ground and heart almost outta his throat. The watermelon in his hands literally shoots into the air and he scrambles to catch it. It's embarrassingly hard for him to catch it again. Volleyball player, who?

(Distantly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears a snort and a _'just like a cat!'_ )

"Oh my, I didn't mean to scare you that bad!" Patting him heavy on the arm, it's the store clerk lady, portly and friendly. He did not realize he already made it to the counter. Jesus, he needs to clear his head. She seems more amused than worried about his whole struggle. "You feelin' alright?"

"Ah, yeah, don't worry about it, I'm just," he lets his eye wander, absently trying to fish for the right word, "out of it. The heat's getting to me, I think." Is he dehydrated? Aw, fuck. He's probably dehydrated, edging on delirious. Isn't this exactly why there's warning about going outside. 

Humming, she says, "Go grab a water bottle, Tetsurou-kun, it's on me." It's the Adult Voice that leaves No Room for Refusal. Dutifully he grabs a water bottle from the freezer. She gives him a Stare until he realizes he should actually drink it in front of her. "I haven't see you here without Koutarou-kun in ages," the lady in the lieu of conversation, idly. Unknowingly, Kuroo locks up at the joints.

"Yeah," he says almost mechanically. Grins to loosen up. "It's strange to be here without Bo. Didn't want to bother him just to come with me to get just watermelon, y'know?" The last time he saw Bokuto was maybe a week ago. It's been very, very quiet without him.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have minded! That dear's too nice for his own good," waving her hand dismissively, she scans the lone watermelon he puts onto the counter. 

_He really is,_ Kuroo thinks absently. It's exactly why he didn't ask. 

"The heat's always a little bit more tolerable when there's someone else with you," she continues, strangely profound, right over his absentmindedness. It makes him think of the walk he's got ahead of him to get home. Jarringly long, though it's barely that far away. Last time he walked back from here to his house was with Bokuto. They stopped at every place they passed, exhausted, but it was bearable. Fun, even. 

"It is," he agrees. He looks outside while she bags the watermelon.

Outside, the city melts.

—

[Bokuto 3:56 P.M.]  
_m guessin no_ _beach this week either ?  
_

[Kuroo 4:01 P.M.]  
_don't think so : (  
temps just hit highest ever recorded for tokyo jfc  
_

[Bokuto 4:01 P.M.]  
_WHAT_  
_didnt think it could even GET hotter here what !!  
_

[Kuroo 4:01 P.M.]  
_the beach might be boilin dude  
will there even be a beach left for us to go to....  
_

[Bokuto 4:02 P.M.]  
_DONT JINX IT!!!!!_

—

"...despite the cold front that was meant to come, the temperatures are still astronomical. Tokyo is currently under Japan's hottest heatwave in all its history," drones the weatherman, who's looking at the broadcasted with a masked dread. "Everyone, stay inside until this heatwave passes. If you have to be outside, wear loose clothes and stay as hydrated as possible. Avoid staying outside for too long, especially if you are eldery—"

Kuroo peels his shirt off his back, uncomfortably damp with sweat. The weatherman isn't saying it, but it's clear as day on screen— the cold front didn't redirect, or gradually vanish. The blue lines are sweeping over Tokyo. The cold front is _here._

Yet the temperatures haven't dropped. They haven't touched 30 degrees in weeks. Just in the past few _days_ it's finally passed 40s and it's _still_ increasing. At some point they might as well call a state of emergency for the city of Tokyo, if not the entire prefecture. There's never been a heatwave like this before.

Scrunching his nose, Kuroo gazes towards his open window. The sky is a pristine blue, completely cloudless. The sun leers in the sky just beyond the window frame, like an angry eye.

_If it's only going to get hotter,_ he thinks fleetingly, _then this could technically be called the cold front._

The thought feels like a resignation. Not groundbreaking, earth-shattering. He slumps back, head hitting the edge of the couch. Every scheduled event in Tokyo has already been postponed or cancelled altogether for the overhanging threat of heat exhaustion and heat stroke. He's got the itching feeling that public transports going to roll to a stop, and, eventually, everything else. How can you even stop a city like Tokyo?

If it gets hotter, what can they even _do?_ Leave? Will everyone in Tokyo be evacuated, relocated? 

The image makes his chest churn. He reaches for the remote and changes the channel.

—

Days pass. The temperature increases by three more degrees. It's catastrophic.

So, faced with an indiscernible future and nothing to _do,_ he does what he does best.

He goes to Kenma's.

"Cars are overheating the second they turn on and it's practically dangerous to walk around, even to public transport, which just are functionally giant ovens now. What the hell are we meant to do?" Kuroo drawls, knocking his head against the bed frame, fanning himself with a roll of magazines as a substitute for a paper fan. The walk here didn't last longer than two minutes, but its under direct sun. The back of his neck feels like it's fried. He's gotten smarter about it, though, and brought an obscene amount of water for the walk. The bottle sits half empty next to his thigh.

Kenma looks... miserably resigned, maybe, like this is inevitable. His hair is permanently stringy from sweat, pulled back into the worlds shittiest and smallest pony tail to keep it from hanging in front of his face. A wet rag is draped around his neck, too— he minutely pats the sides of his face with it. Out of everything, the heat has yet to pry his console from his fingers.

"Melt." After a couple of powerful button punches, he glances to him. "If it becomes a national emergency maybe they'll send helicopters." He looks up in thought though his thumbs still fly across the console. "Helicopters can overheat, right?"

"Definitely." Once his arm grows tired, Kuroo lays the magazines over his face. The coated paper is slightly cool. Truthfully, it takes every ounce of his dignity to keep from smushing it into his face right now. "I'm a little insulted it's not a national emergency yet. Do people need to start dropping like flies for the government to consider doing anything?"

"Trick question. The situation needs to be unsalvageable before those in power takes notice. So. Maybe after a few hundred die and the city's on fire. Or until it wrecks some important business man's company."

Kuroo's eyebrows raise. Lolls his head back until he's looking at him upside down from beneath the magazines. "Heavy stuff, Kozume."

A victorious 8-bit jingle erupts from the switch in Kenma's hands. His eyes are sharp when he glances from over the top of it. "Lev may have been right for once, honestly— don't tell him I said that. I'll know if you do. But we could possibly be in this mess all because some rich man was thinking about how to increase production in some unethical way. We could feasibly be in a miniature greenhouse-dome if some factories let out some kind of advanced pollution all for the gains of a single man."

"I don't think there's a _kind_ of pollution out there that can do something like that, especially to this magnitude— and to be so undetected prior? It just can't happen," Kuroo points out, motioning with the magazines, "and if anything, I don't think something that corrupt would happen here first. I'd maybe believe it if it first showed up in America."

"Doesn't matter where, the rich are to never be trusted."

"I'm going to pester you about this conservation if you become wealthy."

"If I become wealthy enough to actually have an impact on the carbon footprint, I'd want you to snipe me."

_"Kenma!"_ Kuroo smacks his leg, scandalized. "Are you just moody because of the weather?"

Blatantly he is ignored. "Either way, you're right. This whole situation should be impossible. Even climate change couldn't just do this. There would've been some obvious kind of... sign _,_ maybe."

"Even _with_ a sign, it doesn't make sense that its thirty degrees in _Chiba,_ yet it's almost fifty here." Begrudgingly, he pulls himself upright, tossing the magazines to the side. "It's only Tokyo! Just us! If it's not climate change, then what else could it be?"

Kenma shrugs, half invested. "Maybe this is how we're repenting."

Kuroo sneers. "Like this is happening because of some _god?_ Of course you would think that, you've only been playing Fire Emblem recently..."

Raising an eyebrow, Kenma very pointedly does not look at him, focused on the game. Which is Fire Emblem. Go figure. "Well? Do you have a better explanation? Even Fukunaga said it's supernatural. _That_ makes more sense than a selective global warming."

He slumps against the bed frame again, feeling a crick grow in his lower spine. The _supernatural._ He'd like to call bullshit, but at this point, what else would make sense? But— what would it be? He's not exactly religious, so he sure as hell doesn't know what kind of Shinto god has capabilities like this. Maybe some street-side shrine's god? Maybe not even that... Maybe something with its already established god-like statue?

A statue...

A snort bubbles in his throat. He has to stamp it down before he can start full-out cackling, but it still trickles out when he speaks. "Tammy would do it, that bastard— the amusement park's mascot statue. I told you about that thing, right? Suspicious as _hell._ If supernatural were real, _that_ would have its own conscious."

He doesn't need to look to know that Kenma's face is twisting up in a scowl. "Tammy Tanuki. You think _Tammy Tanuki_ would smite all of Tokyo."

"Y'know what, it's possible!" Kuroo sits up straight again, pressing his hands on his lower back to pop it. "Bo 'n I _did_ throw coins at it! Ain't that disrespectful? Hah, imagine that! A silly amusement park statue saying fuck you to all of us because Bo landed a sick trick on it." He grins, recalling the catch of breath, holding, watching as that final coin soared through the air. That video he took was incredible, too. Two hooligans screeching, the video inconceivably blurry as they celebrated. It's almost like those bottle-flipping videos, but cooler! He should posted that to some other social media rather than just his instagram.

He wonders how Bokuto's fairing. Is he still taking care of Petunia, even in this sweltering heat? Is he putting enough sunscreen on if he does go outside?

It's... been a while since he's seen him.

A toe jabs right into the soft part of his neck abruptly. "I did not let you come over so you could mope and pine."

Jolting, Kuroo twists around, batting at Kenma's foot. _"What?_ I am _not_ pining. Or moping. Where the hell did you get that from?"

Kenma glances at him for a long moment,. "You're denying it."

"Of course I would, because I'm _not?"  
_  
"Then why would you bring up the amusement park? Sounds like pining to me."

Appalled, Kuroo sputters, "Pining for _Tammy Tanuki?_ That thing appears in my dreams sometimes to haunt me, I'd be insane to pine for it. I literally just called it a bastard, too! Is your brain turning to mush?"

The look Kenma gives him makes him look like he's aged fifteen years in two seconds. It's the bone-deep-exasperation look he usually has around Lev, so, to say the least, he's a little hurt it's being used on him. "Kuro," he says, not even _trying_ to school his expression into something more neutral, the asshole, "sometimes, I realize how much of a miracle it is you're academically smart, 'cause you're not smart otherwise." 

"What?! _Kenma—"_

"Are you purposely being stupid?" Kenma sets down his switch in a way that's both gentle and irritated. From the quick glimpse, the screen's off. Instinctively Kuroo tenses. "I saw that wistful look on your face. You weren't thinking about the damn tanuki statue. You were thinking about Bokuto, weren't you?"

It sounds like an accusation. It sits heavily in the base of his gut. "I was, but why—?"

"Do I really need to spell it out?"

Kuroo's mouth is drier than it has been all week, all month. He tries to grin, tries to have some semblance of control, but its wobbly. "You might need to, because I'm not catching your drift."

Something glances across Kenma's face, but it's gone as soon as it shows. "You're pining over Bokuto, Kuro. Why else would you think about the amusement park? Don't give me the bullshit that it's _Tammy Tanuki."_

His heart misses a couple of beats.

"I— actually was thinking about Tammy first, though—?" he scrambles, because he's lost all purchase, Kenma's swiping out from beneath his feet—

"I don't care about that," Kenma scowls, "Even _if_ you were, you still are pining over Bokuto. You literally just sat here, in my room, talking about Bokuto looking like a nut job in public, with some kind of _lovestruck_ grin on your face. The audacity."

Kuroo's reeling. Mentally, physically, spiritually— he feels like he just got hit by a truck six times over. One second, he's thinking about how, hah-hah, maybe it's that stupid tanuki statue that caused a miniature global warming that scales the Tokyo prefecture, how funny would that be, and then, he's being told he's— he's in _love?_ How the hell is he meant to recover from this? What the fuck? What the _fuck?_

A look settles on Kenma's face, some kind of expression that feels too soft. The turmoil is probably visible on his own. "We're going to melt to death eventually, you gotta say something."

"There's nothing _to_ say!" Distraught, Kuroo turns away. His neck is more than just hot. He's burning. It makes sense. Does it? Is he in love with— Shit, it's, he's burning up hotter than it is outside, he's going to actually fucking scorch—

Chest tight, he tries focusing on outside because he's going to combust if he thinks of anything else. Blue sky, cloudless, shriveling trees, heat rising from the pavement—

Flashing in his head, the sun shining through the dotted clouds in the sky, coins glittering as they streaked through the air, striking like a gong, boisterous laughter—

Even if it may have possibly been that single moment that caused all of this, he wouldn't trade it for the world. Even if he angered some silly statue, chain-reaction causing a heatwave so violent there may be no recovery, he wouldn't.

The cicadas drone outside, so, so loud. He can feel the heat seeping in from outside, rolling in like a heavy wave from the windows. It trickles up his back, like sweat running backwards, and he. He.

He...

He stands abruptly, startling Kenma. For a moment he just stands and stares at nothing, thoughts lethargic but churning, churning in his head and _oh my god._

"Kuro?" Kenma says somewhere, distantly, though he's just inches away. It feels like fuzz in his ears. Gauze. Cotton.

"I," Kuroo breathes, stumbling, "I, uhm. I have to... go." He turns, almost lurching, towards the door. He can't believe it. He can't _believe it._

He's not thinking straight in the slightest, he realizes, as he slips his shoes on with a single shove. He's had his whole way of thinking just torn apart and reconstructed in the last two minutes, and, and what the hell is he doing. Plowing past the door, he staggers, it's like stepping into a brick wall of _hot._ It only stills him for a moment, but he keeps going, he may just disintegrate if he stops. There's clatter behind him and he thinks it's Kenma— if he can even move fast enough— and he makes it to the end of the yard before something nails him in the spine.

" _Fuck—!"_ Kuroo shrieks, hands flying to his back. The point of impact on his back is strangely chilly, and he turns to see a cold water bottle sitting idly on the pavement. 

"Are you an _idiot?_ " Kuroo jerks, looking up, and there's Kenma at the doorway of his house, looking more frazzled than he has in hours— no, _days_. Even the agitation of the prior conversation holds no candle to the expression Kenma's got on his face now. Hand braced against the door frame, he looks like he's physically repulsed from stepping outside, but one step from lurching out and tearing Kuroo's head off his shoulders. Completely sapped of energy, too, just from the movement. "Huh? Did your brain melt out of your ears? Did it?"

Personally, he thinks this kind of assault is uncalled for. He's already been attacked not even minutes ago, come _on._ Sputtering, Kuroo bends to snatch the bottle from the ground. The condensation from the bottle evaporates almost immediately from the pavement. "Hey—"

"I don't know what you just thought of that was _sooo_ urgent," Kenma bites, knuckles growing white as his agitation rises, "but did you really think you could last even a minute out here without water? Without an umbrella? Huh? We _just_ talked about cars overheating, what the hell makes you think you can just sprint out here!"

He freezes. The heat weighs down on him, horribly overwhelming. He can feel his skin sizzling under the sun. Thinks he can hear it, too. "I..."

What the hell _is_ he doing? Running from Kenma and his horrible confrontations? Running to Tammy Tanuki, maybe, to reconcile, beg forgiveness, please-return-the-temperatures-to-normal? 

Running to Bokuto?

Kenma doesn't even give him the chance to gather his thoughts. "I don't care, it's hot." He reaches somewhere behind the door, grabbing for something— and Kuroo only has the briefest moment to catch the umbrella that's lobbed at him. Kenma points threateningly, "Whatever it is, get on with it, but be _safe_ , you idiot, go get more water. Tell me about it later. Get out of the sun. Go before that water bottle becomes lukewarm." 

Kuroo's mouth snaps shut. He nods, because that's all he can _do,_ and turns heel and goes. 

—

"How willing are you to do something that's dubiously illegal with me?" Kuroo blurts, words falling out of his mouth as he clutches himself upright on the door frame. Seconds pass and he's very, very hypersensitive of every single drop of sweat on him currently, rolling and dripping straight off him and onto the welcome mat below. 

All Bokuto can really do is gape. His hair's loose of gel yet pinned back by a bright yellow clip, though stubborn strands still hang against his forehead. It looks unbelievably soft. The sleeveless shirt he's got on settles awkwardly along his neck, like he's been pulling at it to air it out, absolutely drenched in sweat. There's a spot of blue near the corner of his mouth that he can only assume is from an ice pop he may have had a while ago.

God. Even like this he is an absolute sight for sore eyes. It's been how long since he's last seen him? Two weeks? _Three?  
_  
Even with the recent revelations, he's. He's just glad to see him again.

Bokuto's mouth opens and closes three separate times before he settles on: "Can I even ask what dubious means?"

"I'm sure you get the context clues," Kuroo says, not quite snappish. Is he meant to repeat himself in this situation? Bokuto heard him loud and clear, yet, yet he's not _saying anything_. He fiddles with the umbrella nervously, unsure of how to keep going. It's unintentional, but his absent motions drags Bokuto's attention to it.

Bokuto glances past him, to where the heat rising from the pavement is visible, the browning foliage, and then back, a distraught look twisting on his face. "Jesus, Tetsu, did you— did you _walk_ in this? How in the hell—"

"I've got an idea," he cuts off, leaning in as if it's a secret, "I think I know it! What started all of this shit— the _catalyst."_

"The _huh?_ " Bokuto echoes, looking more and more confused with each passing second. The furrow in his eyebrow disturbs the sweat resting upon his forehead and slide down his temples. He's looking at Kuroo like he's lost his mind. Well— who wouldn't?

This. This is really not how Kuroo had hoped this would go. He's not exactly _sure_ how this was gonna go, but this— this is not it.

"It was _Tammy Tanuki,_ " he plows on before he can lose face. Runs a hand through his bangs to slick them back but they just flop back over his forehead in a gross greasy mass. The empty water bottle in his hand crinkles with the motion. "We— It— Whenever we went to the park, I think it was throwing the coins at the statue. This all started after that day, didn't it? Right? The heatwave?"

Bokuto just looks completely lost at what to even _think_. "The _heatwave?_ Tammy caused the _heatwave?"_

_"Well—_ no, not—" he stumbles on his words, choking in his chest, "Christ, I dunno. Maybe? Remember— remember what I said about the coins, and if you landed them in a place they weren't meant to be, it'd piss Tammy off? I was totally bullshitting you, but, but I dunno, it— it's possible. With how fucked up this whole situation is, Tammy being behind all of it honestly could make _some_ kinda sense. So maybe, if we were to, I dunno, get the coin off from Tammy's nose, then maybe? We'd be forgiven? If it's Tammy at all causing this heatwave..."

Once the words finish spilling from his mouth, he has to bite down on his lip to keep from rambling and sounding more like an idiot than he already is. Kuroo swallows thickly, running the back of his wrist under his chin.

God. This is all so fucking ridiculous, but— but this is all he's got. It's silly to think all of this rests on the shoulders of two stupid teenage boys who were just goofing off but. But...

Bokuto scrunches his nose, narrows his eyes. "I _knew_ Tammy was fuckin' suspicious."

Kuroo, if he were a little more exhausted than he already is, could have cried right here and right now. Instead he just folds over and lets out probably the loudest laugh of his life. 

—

"This is very illegal." Bokuto's voice almost wavers as he watches Kuroo vault over the fence. He isn't super successful, slick with an ungodly amount of sunscreen, doesn't land very gracefully, but hey, he's over. 

" _Dubiously_ illegal," Kuroo corrects, curses, flapping his hand from the sting of the hot metal. Any longer, and his skin might've been seared right off. The sun, hanging above their heads, is fucking _vile._ He can feel the heat rising from the pavement and it's scorching his damn _legs._ Doesn't help that the two of them just walked an abysmal distance in this goddamn heat, stopping every five minutes to rest and refresh and _AUGH,_ his legs are already _tired—_

"I _still_ don't know what that means," he whines, fidgeting. "Akaashi would kill both of us if he knew we were doing this. Without a doubt. I think I can hear him on his way over to come knock our heads off."

"All the more reason we should just hurry in," Kuroo reaches over the fence, motioning for the umbrella. "He wouldn't break in just to scold us, right? So if we're in, he wouldn't be able to kill us just yet."

"Yeah, _but..."_ he passes the umbrella and grabs hold of the bars, wincing. While his climb over is awkwardly clunky, he does manage to land on his feet unlike Kuroo who nearly landed on his face. Once he lets go of the bars, he lets out a howl of pain, planting his hands on his thighs, then grumbles again when his hands burn the skin. "It's the _yet!_ 'Kaashi would be waiting for us by the time we get out! We'll be trapped in here until the actual police come and get us! He might spare me, but I think he might actually beat you up, Tetsu."

"What! Why _me?"_ He slips to Bokuto's side, putting both of them shoulder to shoulder to stay in the umbrella's shade. He's painfully aware Akaashi thinks he's a pain-in-the-ass, but _damn,_ to actually be clobbered? Akaashi doesn't exactly look the beefiest, not like Bokuto, but regardless he's still an athlete. If he's unhinged, Kuroo's life might _actually_ be in danger. 

Bokuto doesn't really meet his eye when he shrugs. Weirdly enough, he gets the idea.

"I mean, you _did_ just drag me along to commit a crime..."

"It's not a crime if no one finds out!"

With almost too much force, Bokuto nudges him with his shoulder, bubbling with laughter. Kuroo tries to save face but totally ends up stumbling almost completely face first onto the pavement. "Man, you're meant to be the more reasonable out of the two of us! How am I meant to argue with that?"

He's missed it. God, he's missed it.

Belatedly, he realizes just how quiet it is out here when Bokuto's impossibly loud laugh echoes through the park. He hears the tail end of it once, twice, then it's gone, and the dead silence of the air takes its place. 

It's very strange to walk through the park when it's completely empty. There's no hum of rollercoasters, no jeers of children, no peppy tinny background music blaring over the speakers. Even stranger, their conversation tapered off almost immediately, and Kuroo's not sure if it's because it's too hot to talk, or there's a reason his hearts fluttering somewhere in his throat.

The path to the pond is not long. Now cleared of the usual human traffic and their brisk pace (the pavement's hot as hell, _shit),_ they stand at the fence to the pond in minutes flat. The pond's half full— no, not even— probably a quarter full, most of its evaporated out by this point. The special theatrical arcs of water are no longer running, though the gleaming of coins beneath the statue light it up in its own kind of horrible theatrics.

Tammy looks strangely lonely out in the middle of the pond. Maybe, also, like a caged beast. 

Peering from the corner of his eye, he sees Bokuto's just staring out to Tammy. There's a challenging look in his eye and it starkly reminds him of the first time they stood here, armed with coins and the air twenty degrees cooler. He bites his tongue.

"Well," he starts, inhaling deeply.

"All we gotta do is just find those coins, right?" Bokuto says clearly like it's nearly the easiest thing in the world, the single answer to all the problems. He grins to Kuroo, and honestly, maybe he's right. Anything is possible, especially with this kind of attitude, especially with Bokuto by his side. "No need to waste time standing around!" he hollers, his voice echoing, echoing. Without any warning, he swings his leg over the short fence, and begins his descent.

Blistering hot. It's _abysmal._ Jesus _fuck,_ how the hell is the water not boiling yet. Kuroo breathes in deeply, steels his nerves. Even with his shoes still on— the dark polyester of the pond bottom looks like it will sear his foot right off— nothing will be able to sooth this scalding. He's glad the water only reaches his calfs. Any higher and he may just wimp out.

Water had seemed so kind, a sanction in this hell, he almost dreamed about wading in it— but this is _horrible._

_Splash._

"Holy _fuck!_ "

Kuroo turns— Bokuto's hopping foot to foot, wincing _'hot! hot!'_ with every step. Probably seconds away from lunging back out of the water. "How the hell are you not— not dying?" Bokuto cries, eyes squished tight as he rises an inch, on his tippy toes. 

"It's the perk of already being hot," Kuroo winks, and grimaces. "That was awful. Sorry. I am trying really hard not to yell right now. It's not all that different from a jacuzzi, right? Just. A couple degrees hotter."

_"Tetsu,"_ Bokuto says warily, frowning as he trudges behind, umbrella up and opened in his hand, "Are— Are you sure about this? Man, I can't tell your mom that I willingly let you roast like a turkey in a big ole pond—"

"You're roasting _with_ me, how would you even tell my mom?" He retorts automatically. Then, momentarily, he bites his tongue, hesitating.

He's... He's really just dragging Bokuto out here, isn't he? Making him walk with him in near catastrophic temperatures, where plants have shriveled and traffic cones have melted— All under the pretense of _'just trust me'_? If Bokuto had shown up at his house, telling him to come cross the city in this sweltering heat, he—

...what _would_ he have done?

"You... don't have to do this with me," he says belatedly as he slows to a stop. The words sit awkward in his tongue, regretful, "I know this kinda sucks— er, really sucks— so you... don't have to."

Bokuto blinks at him owlishly, pausing. Fear builds up in his throat, and momentarily, he thinks Bokuto _might_ actually take the offer and leave. He's been talking about how dangerous it is to be out here, how risky it is. Of course he doesn't want to be here. What the hell was he _thinking?_ Kuroo would honestly not be surprised if he left at this point.

He's not sure he'd be able to convince himself to stay out here without Bokuto by his side. 

"Well!" he puffs up, finally reaching Kuroo and covering him in the red-tinted shade of the umbrella, "I can't let you roast out here alone! Plus, if what you're sayin' is right, it _is_ kinda also my fault that this whole heatwave shit happened. So I'm here!"

In the red coloring cast, the pink of Bokuto's sun burn almost looks like blush.

Kuroo doesn't get a chance to stare longer when Bokuto swivels to look at him, somehow beaming in this temperature. "Besides, who else would hold up the umbrella?"

Groaning, Kuroo shoves him but he's grinning, grinning so wide. His stomach's all warm and he knows it's not just the weather causing it. "Letting me do all the grunt work, huh! I see what's going on!"

"I mean, you did say that you're resilient to heat because you're already hot!" he counters, cheeky. Kuroo gasps.

"I can't believe you! Using my own words against me—! Where the hell did you learn the word resilient?"

He glitters. "I knew that one myself!"

Once again, the imposing figure of Tammy Tanuki towers over them. Looming more and more as they approach. _Christ_ , it's bigger up close than he thought. Tammy's just eerie now, with the lack of theatrics and children's laughter in the distance, with hard shadows casted across its face from the sun's harsh angle.

The two of them are so tiny compared to it, it's almost like two unbelievers standing before an angry god. Once that image crosses Kuroo's mind, he really has to bite down to keep from snorting. 

The umbrella tips back, too far back, and the unyielding sun nearly blinds him. "Bo, man, what—" he sputters, throwing his hands up to at least save his eyes.

"It's not there!" Bokuto blurts, boggled. He quickly readjusts the umbrella, but his eyes don't stray from the tanuki's face. Kuroo follows, perplexed, and—

The coin's no longer balanced on the stubby nose. 

It feels like a joke. He waits and waits but the coin does not reappear, does not come out of hiding. He quickly skims the entire structure for— for anywhere it could've landed, if it was knocked off by the wind or something, but there's nothing except the water below.

Kuroo clicks his tongue, stomach plummeting. "Well. Shit. That just made things harder."

"I... I can't believe it..." mourning, Bokuto trudges closer to the statue, stopping right where it starts becoming a mine-field of scorching hot coins. His eyes don't leave the tanuki's nose once, like he's desperately watching, waiting for it to reappear. "My... my sick trick... my trick shot... gone..."

For a painstakingly long moment, Kuroo feels like it's all in vain. It takes an even longer moment to even think of something positive about this situation. Something that isn't... well. Making this a waste of time. "Well," Kuroo starts, trickling, coming up with it as he goes. Slaps a hand on Bokuto's shoulder blade to perk him up, maybe. "I was worried that one of us was gonna have to climb Tammy. _That_ woulda caused more damage than breaking in. Just another charge to add on if we're caught. It's gotta be around the statue somewhere."

Unbelieving, Bokuto motions to the coins scattered around the statue. "But— there's a billion coins over here! There's no way we'll find the one you gave me!" 

His feet already ache just thinking about how long he's gonna be standing in this water, ankles scalding from boiling water. Who in their right minds started the whole tradition of throwing coins in ponds for good luck? He's going to throttle whoever it was. Asshole. "Ain't no one else gonna be throwing a five-hundred yen into here but us. And even if there _are_ others five-hundreds, then ours would be the one closest to the statue, right? Since it was probably knocked off by the wind?"

Bokuto halts so suddenly Kuroo thinks he can hear the whiplash. "You gave me a five-hundred yen to _throw?"_ Suddenly Bokuto's wide, earnest eyes are pinned on him. It's a bit much. He leans towards Kuroo, pressing, peering at him even when he turns away. "You— Did you believe I could make it that much? You betted that _much_ on me?"

"I didn't have any other change!" he flushes, "I mean, I knew if you had an unlimited amount of coins you would've made it at some point, and I thought what the hell—" He lengthens his stride, ducking from beneath the umbrella, just so Bokuto won't see how embarrassingly pink his face just got. However, his friend's an absolute hardhead, dearly stubborn, and easily matches his pace.

"Te _tsuuu_ ," he coos, nearly too gleeful with the information he's just obtained. "You _did_ have faith in me! I can't believe it— you said I wouldn't make it, but all along—!!"

"Who's Bokuto Koutarou? I don't know who that is," Kuroo says loudly, mockingly, crouching down and quickly darting his hands in the water to scoop up coins. Fucking _Owch—_ like he thought, the coins are scorching hot, even worse with the water. They clink almost musically as he rifles through them quickly. None of the coins show the arcade's logo, none of them that dull brass. Grimacing, he puts them aside, _plop plop plop_ into the water.

He knew, but this... This is going to take forever.

There's a shuffle beside him, and to his surprise Bokuto crouches down too, arm brushing against his shoulder. He dips his hand into the water and takes his pick, though he immediately drops them out of his palm whenever they start searing into it, wincing.

Kuroo pauses to raise an eyebrow. "I thought you were the designated umbrella-holder?"

Cheeks puff up in a pout, Bokuto tries again. "It's boring just standing here. I can't let you do _all_ the work, y'know. I've got to find that five-hundred yen and treasure it, it's the symbol of your faith in me—"

"Oh god, no more," Kuroo whines, knocking his elbow into Bokuto's side. Somehow, Bokuto's unbalanced enough that the nudge is enough to nearly teeter him into the water, so he quickly latches onto Kuroo before he can truly eat shit. 

_"Bro,_ be merciful! I think I'll instantly boil if I fall in," he cries. His grip is tight on Kuroo's forearm, fingers digging into pink skin, burning slightly with the hot water. 

"Not my fault you're all wobbly," Kuroo grins, though it's uneven itself, crooked and goopy. He's not sure if he's imagining it, not sure, but he swears Bokuto's hand lingers longer than it should, grip firm yet softening. He's looking too deeply into it. Fuck, Kenma put all of this shit into his head, _'liking'_ Bokuto, and it's, it's— it's making him more skittish, more jumpy. He's gonna see things that aren't there, now that his world's rearranged and slotted back into place. It's embarrassing, they're really close to each other, Bokuto's shoulder occasionally brushing his, his ears bright pink, his stupid, stupid—

God, he might love him. 

He turns back to the coins, gently pulling his arm from Bokuto's hand. Like a fucking coward, he does not look back.

And, after a brief moment, though it seems much longer with how double-timed Kuroo's heart is beating, Bokuto resumes the motions as well.

It's hot. Even with the umbrella, even with the sunscreen, he feels like he's fucking melting, standing in this stupid pool of water, crouching, shuffling through hundreds of steaming hot coins in steaming hot water, looking for some silly arcade coins, for the silly five-hundred yen.

The sun now peeks between the trees along the skyline, which is the only way to tell they've been at this for more hours than necessary. Now that the sun isn't directly overhead, no longer boiling the water and scorching the skin, they've reduced to kneeling and the umbrella idles in the water, abandoned. The air, however, is still stagnant with heat. Fucking humidity. His shirt is soaking wet and he has barely even touched the water's surface with it. 

Maybe it's been two hours, or four. He's got no goddamn clue. All he knows is that they've got seven of the nine arcade coins and no five-hundred yen. If it's been two hours, then that's at least three coins an hour average. So another hour, and hopefully, probably, he'd have them all. But if it's been four...

_My brain's too mushed to think about this,_ he relents, rocking back on his heels to press his palms into his eyes. _It's going to melt out of my ears. It's not even that hot anymore._

He presses his thumbs in harder until colors flicker across his vision. _Who am I kidding. It's still hot. It's never not gonna be hot._

Behind him, there's the telltale plops of coins into the water. A dejected sigh. Kuroo's stomach folds in on itself, so he sticks his hand back into the water to distract himself.

They've been working in a silent tandem this whole, which is so unlike them it pulls at Kuroo's stomach. Not a peep from either one of them. No jests, no snickers, no roughhousing. At this point, he's not going to lose it because he's been sifting through hundreds of coins for hours on end, but from how much the silence is killing him.

He just— hopes things will turn back to how they were before, even if they manage to get all of the coins or not.

"Hey, Tetsu," Bokuto says absently, swirling his hand in the water rather than picking up more. Full-bodied, Kuroo jumps, but quickly tries to compose himself though his shoulders remain tense. He hums, not trusting his voice— it will warble, he knows. His fingers are pruny and no longer sting from the hot metal of the coins.

"Tetsu," Bokuto repeats. Finally he looks up, his eyes are trained to the water, glassy. The coins reflect the dying sunlight onto his face, the lights dancing with the water's movement. Kuroo's never seen him this still before.

"Hm?" he barely manages, the noise caught in his throat. If it didn't feel so off, he'd bask in this image of Bokuto, soft edges even rounder, a polite orange coloring his cheekbones. 

The brief pause echoes a lot louder than it should, with the lack of, well... _everything_ , around them. Bokuto takes in a breath. It's the most defeated sound he's ever heard come from him.

"We should probably just... go back."

Kuroo straightens up from his stooped crouch. _Unexpected_ , is what he'd like to call it, but he's had the inkling sitting low in his chest this whole time. "Wh— We've nearly gotten all the arcade coins, and the yen's gotta be here somewhere!" When he presents his hand, where he's had the coins clutched, the arcade symbol's in red impressions on his palm. He sounds desperate. Fuck, he doesn't want to, but he is.

It's just— if they leave, he feels like it'll all be over. 

"I mean—" ahh, he didn't notice— he didn't realize how _aggravated_ Bokuto is about the prospect of _giving up_. Didn't catch the growing frustration in his movements. "It's just... we've cleared most of the pond already, and it's been a while since either of us found one, and I know I was just kidding about it earlier, but I think your mom's actually gonna call the police if we're here longer."

He wants to protest it, but honestly, who's he fooling? The yen was already gone from Tammy's nose. His whole theory was riding on the fact that it was resting up there. But it's gone. Not even there. And if it _that_ was the whole catalyst, then what the hell are they doing out here?

Kuroo breathes in shallowly. Once, twice. Gathers his will. "Alright," he says, standing. Disrupting the stillness around him, the swish of water from his movement is jarringly loud— he didn't think he stood up that abruptly, but huh, maybe he did. Jesus, he needs to get himself under _control._ "Okay. Yeah. We... We should go."

There's a complete lack of motion from Bokuto.

To keep from losing composure, Kuroo moves to retrieve the umbrella instead, which has idly drifted away. He reaches for the handle only to realize he's still got all seven coins clenched in his hand still. Still. Even subconsciously, he's still hoping. He breathes in deeply— in and in until he can't keep going— exhales.

He lets go of the coins unceremoniously. No need for them, really. 

Just as the coins _splish_ into the water, there's a strangled noise from behind him. 

"Dude, you—!" blurting, Bokuto leaps to his feet. In a splash that soaks most of Kuroo, he dives straight into the water. Frantically he regathers all the coins Kuroo just dumped, breathing a sigh of relief when they're all in his palm.

Jarred, Kuroo just watches, startled into stillness. The water's lukewarm from where it clings onto his skin. "What are you—?" 

As if they're precious to him, Bokuto pulls his hands closer to his chest, cupping the coins like they're delicate. "I mean— I meant!" Choked up. That's the only way he can describe the floundering Bokuto's doing, the thickness of his voice. "I didn't— actually mean _give up._ I meant for today! It's almost dark and I think we'll become prunes if we stay out here longer, so, we can just— come back tomorrow!"

He's never been this stupefied before, he thinks. Never been this bewildered, this boggled, this what-ever-synonyms-for-shocked-there-is. "Come back tomorrow?" he echoes dumbly, "W— _Why?_ There's no reason to?"

"No reason too—?" Bokuto parrots, squawking, appalled. He sinks lower until he's just sitting in the water, growing more confused. "Dude, we didn't even get _all_ of them yet! We have to get them all, don't we?"

"It's not even _worth_ it to get them all." Admitting it out loud— he can't tell if it's a relief or not. It's a resignation, and it's pulling at his guts.

The furrow between Bokuto's eyebrows deepens and deepens. 

"Everything I had was literally depending on the coin _being there,_ though," Kuroo stresses, continuing, motioning abortedly towards the statue, "I— I thought Tammy was so pissed that you got the coin there, so once it was off, Tammy wouldn't have reason to cause a catastrophic heatwave! But it's gone, there's still a heat wave, and we've been sitting out here for hours for no reason _._ "

"It's not just for _no reason,_ Tetsu," Bokuto tries, but something's building in Kuroo's chest, clawing higher and higher until its in the top of his throat.

"It was," he croaks, shaking his head, "It was— ridiculous, I can't even believe—" He leans back, back, face tilted up towards the fading sky. "I went out a limb more than anything. Can you _believe?_ I pulled this theory out of my ass since Kenma n' I were talkin' about this whole _thing,_ and I used it as..." He swallows, swallows again, but there's nothing getting past the thickness in his throat. "... as a excuse to see ya."

Bokuto's dead silent in this moment. So still he might not be breathing. 

"I'm," Kuroo pauses, almost wheezing, unsure, because Bokuto's not responding, he's not _responding_ , how is he meant to take that? "I'm sorry I, I dragged you out here to roast with me, all for some, some stupid reason. I just. I panicked and..."

Condescendingly, Kenma's voice echoes in his head, _'We're going to melt to death eventually, you gotta say something.'  
_  
Fuckin' Kenma. He wasn't ready to jump this hurdle yet. He wasn't ever gonna _be_ ready. The words rest on the back of his tongue, refusing to come out or go back down, and he feels like he's gonna puke.

"Tetsurou," Bokuto starts after a beat. Unfaltering. "I'd go anywhere with you."

The world rocks. There's no excuse this time he could possibly come up with for how he flushes. How the hell does he sound so _sure—_

"I thought," his mouth forms words, but he doesn't say any of them, momentarily unsure. He's silent until he looks Kuroo straight in the eyes. "I thought I maybe fucked up somewhere— been to clingy, maybe freaked you out. 'Kaashi called me out sometimes, saying I was been too much. I dunno! I just like being around you, with you. I was really scared I scared you off."

"You'd. Never scare me off, Bo," Kuroo says, just above a whisper, because, because this sounds like something and he's very scared he might misinterpret. 

Bokuto's eyes crease in a smile, dawning. "Sweet!" He says, loudly. It's loud enough it echoes, disrupts the silence that's settled over the park. He winces, sheepish. "Sweet," he tries again, quieter. "So, then, it wouldn't scare you off if I said I liked you?"

Like a blow to the face, Kuroo teeters, dropping into the water with a _plop_. The ripples wake against Bokuto's knees, making a small personal light show for the brightest thing in his life. "It wouldn't," he says, because christ, he's gonna melt out here. He's gonna dissolve in this water and it's gonna be so embarrassing. 

Rushing out a relief breath, Bokuto eases. He didn't notice his shoulders were hitching up in tension. "Cool," he says, giddy, jumpy. "Sweet. Awesome. That's great. 'cause I like you."

Laughter bubbles out of his throat, though it's wet and gooey and he might've hiccuped by the end of it. "Don't say that so easily, you big doof," Kuroo says thickly, resting back into the water.

Unfair. Bastard. How _unfair,_ he can say kinda stuff and not have his whole world tremor.

Pressing his hands over his face to keep from growing pinker, Kuroo breathes. Maybe he can drown before he makes more of a fool of himself.

"Wanna come over?" he suggests, muffled by his palms. His stomach's fluttering like he's asking something risky. Like he's asking for a first date. Silly. Ridiculous. They've been on plenty already, haven't they? "I've got some of your spare clothes at home. We've got ice pops, too."

From the stomach, Bokuto laughs, something chime-y and wonderful. He presses his palm against Kuroo's stomach, pushing him, and he jerks to smack at his hand. "D'ya even need to ask?" he says, doughy. 

Backlit by the setting sunlight, Bokuto's probably the best thing he's ever seen in his damn life. 

"I just hope Akaashi's not waiting by the park gates," he admits sheepishly when he pulls Kuroo upright. Throughout the park, Kuroo's laugh echoes, scratchy, loud, but it's the loveliest.

Behind them, Tammy Tanuki shrinks and shrinks, then disappears in the distance.

—

"Can I get a Bubbles pop? Ah, actually— two of them?"

Resting his elbows on the wood of the counter, Kuroo looks out to the ocean. The edge of the sea, dotted with the bright colors of people, blends near seamlessly with the sky.

"Here you go," the teenager says, handing him the popsicles. She's not the pink-haired one from the stand by the riverside, but she's got the same charming smile. Must be an ice-cream stand employee requirement. 

Thanking her, he steps out from the awning onto piping hot sand. Unbelievably hot sand. Jesus fuck. He doesn't hop on his toes, not quite— he couldn't even salvage his dignity if he did. A mere couple minutes in the shade, and he's already lost his numbness to the heat. He wishes he brought sandals or something. His toes fucking hurt.

God. Where did his damn immunity go? He managed two weeks in a catastrophic heatwave, why the hell is _hot sand_ his downfall?

It's, frankly, quite wild that just last week Tokyo was on the edge of becoming a giant hot pot. Literally one of the most extreme heatwaves on the planet— relative to location, of course— nearly closing down the entire city to a stillness.

And, somehow, within a two day period, the temperature in Tokyo plummeted from near fifty degrees to a helluva-lot-more-tolerable thirty. A month long disaster, cleaned up and wiped away in _two days._ Ridiculously unbelievable. But hey, it's whatever. It took a while for everything to get back onto its feet— train tracks were still cautiously looked after, and things that had melted had to be repaired or replaced. But everything's crawling back to normal.

And for the first time in nearly a month, he's actually willingly standing in the sunlight.

Growth. 

_Fuckin' Tammy Tanuki,_ he thinks, idly strolling back to their spot. _What a rat bitch._

"Ah— _Tetsurou!!"_

Mid-motion he turns and proceeds to get blinded on the spot. He has to throw his hands up to block the sun, what the fuck, the motherfucker's _bright,_ but it's awkward to try and block it with the ice pops in his hands—

A hand shoots up into the air and waves around haphazardly until it casts a shadow over his eyes, the palm blocking the sun for the most part. It momentarily helps but the fact that it keeps moving and light keeps peeping through his fingers generally makes it useless. Laughter bubbles from his throat, giddy, and Kuroo smacks Bokuto on his shoulder whenever he's close enough. "You're not helping much, bud."

Bokuto puffs his cheeks out, smushing his hand over Kuroo's eyes. "At least I _tried!"_ His hands are grossly sweaty and gritty at the same time, a really weird feeling on his face, so Kuroo tries prying his hands off, snorting. In retaliation— just because he can— Bokuto presses both his hands on his face, squishing his nose. Then he halts very abruptly. Peeling Bokuto's hands off his face, he sees that all focus is directed to what's in his hand. "Dude, is that what I think it is?"

Cheekily, Kuroo presents the ice pops with flourish, bowing with an arm extended, holding Bokuto's long-desired Bubbles pop. "You betcha."

With how loud Bokuto's gasp is you woulda thought he'd be proposing. "B-Bro," he says, watery. He takes it with certain kind of gentleness Kuroo didn't think he had in him.

Knocking his own pop against his, Kuroo grins, "Wouldn't be a proper trip if we didn't have ice cream, right?"

Momentarily there's no response from Bokuto. An expression's on his face that's a little indiscernible— a little too heartfelt. It's very soft on his face. Feather-soft. It makes his pulse rise in this throat, just before a grin splits across Bokuto's face, dispelling the fluttering. "'Course," he says, and he steps close enough to Kuroo to where their elbows and shoulders knock while they walk.

Kuroo tries very, very hard not to go bright red in the face.

Completely ungracefully, Bokuto practically flops straight down onto his towel, disrupting just about everything and sending sand everywhere. Doesn't seem to bother him, though— he fidgets, patting Kuroo's towel with vigor. "C'mon! We gotta open them at the same time!! Tetsu!!"

"Alright, alright," he grins, exasperated, ducking beneath the umbrella and settling onto his towel. The umbrella's just barely big enough for the two of them with their broad shoulders (more like just Bokuto's broad shoulders—), so they're thigh to thigh, elbows and knees knocking together. Bokuto's jittering so much Kuroo can feel his bones vibrate. 

Pinching the wrapper, Bokuto looks towards Kuroo, expression bright, eyes creasing. "On the count of three, okay?" 

"One, two... three!"

In his vigor Bokuto nearly drops the entire popsicle onto his leg. Side by side, they present them. And like an off switch, Bokuto's smile plummets. With a laugh that grows and grows, Kuroo has to turn away from Bokuto to keep from totally losing it. "No way," Bokuto mutters, sounding so so confused, appalled, and it's sending Kuroo into a fit of laughter _again._ "They look _normal?"_ Offended, Bokuto squints at the Bubbles pops, eyes roving over each part.

They're the most normal looking Bubbles pops he's ever _seen._ Didn't even think it was possible to get one that looks normal.

Honestly, it's kinda funny in how ironic it is. "I think its due— after all the misfits we got, there's finally a proper one," Kuroo says placatingly, grinning. He inspects his own— Maybe the gum ball eyes are a little off-centered, but honestly, she's not a monstrosity.

"I want a refund," Bokuto grumbles. Kuroo throws his head back and howls in laughter.

"I _knew_ it, you only want them for the funny-factor," he accuses, leaning heavily against Bokuto until he leans over too, though he's laughing too much to make it sound like a real accusation. 

Bokuto looks confused that Kuroo would assume anything else. "It's one of their defining _features."_ Grumpily he pops it in his mouth, munching with such a scowl on his face. It's probably the angriest he's ever eaten ice cream before, and the whole ordeal just Kuroo wheeze.

"Anyways—" Kuroo starts, trying to divert the conversation so that he stops looking so down, "How's the games been going?" He nods towards the net Bokuto had just been playing at. Teenagers currently are bumping the ball across the net with the ease of those who truly don't give a shit who wins or not. One does a spectacular dive to save a ball, getting a mouthful of sand. Unfortunately, the ball does not go far up into the air from their save, sadly hitting the sand with a _pomf_. The lost point doesn't bring them down, though— everyone's laughing at the mess of sand on the teen's face. Even the teen's laughing, too, practically spewing sand outta their mouth.

"Oh!" Almost too easily, Bokuto brightens up. Takes a huge ass bite from Bubbles's pigtail before speaking. "It sucks ass! _Absolute_ ass! It is _impossible_ to get a good jump! All I've got going for me is that I can still hit it over okay-ish, but it's _horrible_ , man."

"Well, at least it's not solid wood you're diving into." Residual sand is dotted all over Bokuto's face— it would look like freckles if it wasn't so pale. Brushing his palm over Bokuto's cheeks, he really ends up just smudging the sand across on his face, but the flush that grows along his neck is well worth it.

"It's not really any kinder," Bokuto whines, "Like, sure, I'm not breaking my ribs against floorboards, but... but there's _sand_ up my ass."

"Gross."

_"SUPER_ gross!" Shaking the sand from his hair, which has grown willowy with the humid air, he takes another bite from his ice pop. Then he sputters so loudly people walking by glance to make sure he's not dying. "Why! It's everywhere! _Everywhere!"_ he cries, spitting the chunk of ice to the side. When Kuroo looks closer, there's the sprinkling of sand particles all over the remnants of Bubbles.

"That one was totally on you, you doof, you just shook the sand outta your hair with your pop in your hand," Kuroo grins, not sympathetic in the slightest. However, he hands his still-completely-intact Bubbles to Bokuto, who watery blinks at it, mid scrapping the sand off his tongue. "Have mine— I can try to wipe it off of yours in the meantime."

A dopey smile crests across his face. Simply looking at it makes Kuroo flustered, unbearably to the core, so he forcibly switches the pops to look away. "D'aww, Tetsu," Bokuto coos, the affection palpable in his voice. He nudges his elbow into Kuroo's rib, obnoxious, but so fond. "Yer bein' so nice to me. D'ya got a crush on me or somethin'?"

Nonplussed, Kuroo scoops up a handful of sand and reels back, threatening. Bokuto screeches. Bodily turns away, shielding his ice cream. "You wouldn't!" he cowers. 

Though having the power is very nice, he lowers his hand because he's a patron saint. "You're right, I'm _too_ nice to ya," he sneers. Smears the sand off the pop with a spare napkin. The napkin does not get the sand off. There's sand on the napkin. Fuckin'— there's sand everywhere.

What else is he expecting? It's the damn _beach._ Ah. Whatever. He sticks the pop in his mouth. The sand granules scrape against his tongue, but soon enough they're just in his saliva, which he spits out to the side. 

Bokuto's nose is scrunched up like he's watching the worst thing occur. His Bubbles pop is already nearly demolished. "Gross. How can you eat sand."

"Didn't," he corrects. The ice cream's sugary sweet now that the sand's out of his mouth.

"You _so_ just did." 

"Didn't you eat some earlier?" he prods, grinning a sharp cat's grin. Bokuto bristles full-bodied, embarrassed. "I saw that dive." He whistles, taunting, "Didn't even save it. A whole mouthful of sand, for nothing... Top ace of the country, who?"

Looking like he's five seconds from just leaping at him, Bokuto almost bursts. "I'd like to see _you_ try! Which one of us will eat the _most_ sand! I don't think you'd even be able to block me," he challenges, puffing up, very smug about it.

Kuroo snorts. _"Who's_ the one here who can jump higher? I can block you easy-peasy."

Briefly, Bokuto's momently stilled. Like he's genuinely surprised. Then he leans, far, far into Kuroo's personal space, "You— You're actually gonna come play a round?" he asks, glimmering. The gold of his eyes glitters so brightly, a sparkling so tangible. Even if he wasn't already planning on playing a round, that charm— he'd be convinced in a second. Bokuto could probably convince him to do whatever he wants. 

"'Course I will," he says, fondness pulling at his guts. What a volleyball brain. They're at the beach and they haven't even gone in the water once yet. "What else did I come here for?" 

He'd go anywhere he'd ask, after all.

"Besides. Gotta show ya how to set properly, after all," smirking, Kuroo stands up briskly, striding out from their little umbrella to leave a gaping Bokuto to scramble after him a second later. In a couple of long strides, Bokuto falls in step with him, bumping their shoulders together. This time, it's his smile blinding him. He might need to wear sunglasses every time he looks at him.

"You're _on!"_

**Author's Note:**

> tammy, rubbing temples: you. you fucking dumb fucks. sort your shit out, or tokyo's gonna get it 🔪


End file.
